Under Grey Skies
by BonJiro
Summary: When Zelda wrestles with her decisions concerning her country's welfare, she comes to accept that she is a trophy of war. But with the Hero in the sights of the Dark Lord, can she do more to draw Ganondorf's attention away? [Now in the process of a rewrite titled 'Under Grey Skies - Relaunch', which will include the fabled epilogue.]
1. Prologue

A thunder storm ravaged the country of Hyrule; a deluge of rain hammering down and drenching the world. The threatening rumble of the skies seemed to make the earth quiver beneath as each flash of lightening cracked down to sear the night. A frigid gale blew, tempest tossed and blown by an angry god. The cold stone within the castle served to produce no warmth against the harsh night raging outside, as the echo of thunder rolled against every wall. This was particularly true of Zelda's keep; the high tower held only the mourning Princess and a dim fire, struggling to warm the small room and provide the little light she needed to read.

Sitting close to the embers, resigned to a wooden chair, she sat, scouring a leather-bound tome for the little comfort it could afford her. Flipping through the pages of history, old legends and tales of heroes gave her the fortitude to endure her imprisonment with grace and sanity, quietly awaiting the day her hero would arrive. But as the days had rolled on, she knew that Link's timing would be closely matched to that of their rival—His presence was already thick upon the air, like a foul stench she couldn't place.

As if an outward manifestation of this realization, lightning cleaved the sky beside her window, haunting the chamber with its momentary glow. A shiver crept through her, and she sighed, closing the book and turning her crystalline gaze toward the fire.

_Perhaps the Gods are angry with my decision?_ It flashed through her mind, though with a light shake of her head she rid herself of it. She had no choice; this sorry state of affairs was the only mercy she could give her people. She adjusted the cloak around her fragile form, slender fingers gripping the dark fabric as a somber expression took over her delicate features. Her pale lips moved, mouthing the words Zant had said to her only a week before, "Surrender or die.". Her people were unharmed, in a sense, and unaware of the coup; This was the only thing she had power over, and her brows furrowed as she remembered the day with distaste. Could she have been expected to do more? It was not her place to have stood and fought that day against an insurmountable force such as this, she was not the hero.

…But then, what was her place? …To sit and be little more than a trophy, or a trump card? Did she serve a purpose, or purposely serve?

Thunder roared from the clouds, causing her to jump, and jarring her from her reverie. "What more can I do?" She asked the still air, gazing out of the window. The Gods must've understood that she had played her part as well as she could have, was it not her place here, beside the fire, awaiting the chosen one? The storm's rage was leaving her in doubt.

She frowned, picking up the sides of her cloak to shift fluidly toward the window. Even with a few small steps, the warmth was fleeting, and the chill of the outside world seemed to seep into her skin. It prickled at her, almost burning with an unnatural sense. Whether Midna returned with the hero in time was a likelihood, but the arrival of Zant's master was upon them now. She stifled a slight gasp as it struck her—Perhaps the storm was a reflection of his growing power, and not of the Gods at all. Her heart fell with a trepidation as she stared out toward her ravaged land; Even without being here, He was threatening her, showing her a glimpse of the rage and darkness he held for them all.

Zelda stared out at the skies with a quizzical look, studying them with a new sense of personification. Drawing a slow breath, she placed a hand to the window pane, flinching slightly at the biting frostiness it held. Her face contorted into a look of understanding. Perhaps it truly was her place to be a trophy of war; The storm sent her a message of dominance and possessiveness. It had raged since her capture, and she blinked with the sudden notion that perhaps she was a more valuable asset than she gave herself credit for.

And that was when she secretly made up her mind; if this was the hand she was dealt, she would play it with everything she had. After all, were trophies not kept to be admired? The ghost of a smile lingered on her lips, as her breath fogged out before her. "You aren't scaring me just yet, Ganondorf. This has only just begun." As if to second this, she heard the scuffling of paws clicking against stone, and a light growl behind her. A giggle, haughty and cute, signaled Midna's presence as well, as thunder growled across the land, angry.

The Princess smiled to herself, and gave a pointed glance to the grey sky, before turning to face the first ray of hope to cut through the storm—The Hero had arrived.

**A/N: Ok, guys. Sorry for the massive Ganondorf/Storm metaphor, I know it's a little cliché, But I really wanted to cement the prologue with a canonical event, namely, what Zelda was doing before you first saw her in TP. And, considering there was a storm then… Yeah, you get it. **

**I don't know how far I'm going to go with this as far as dark themes and sexual content, so I'm rating it M for safety.**

**I also felt like it was important that the prologue feel like a flash back, a bit, because it's only hinting at the future, (pretty vauguely) and it is based on the actual scene. So, if you felt it was a bit subjective or detached from Character, that is why.**


	2. Mirror, Mirror

Zelda had settled into a much calmer state of mind since sending the Hero on his way; They had narrowly avoided a guard, but she was no fool, that only meant she wouldn't face an immediate punishment. She was well aware that the Dark Lord knew of their movements in the world, above all else, and with Zant no longer frequenting her castle she had prepared herself for new company.

At first, she was concerned for Link's welfare, as she knew very little of Midna's motives, but after meeting with them, these had been somewhat soothed. She reasoned with herself, that after her little epiphany that day, ulterior motives, while still serving to combat the plague upon Hyrule, were not something to concern herself with too greatly.

After all, she had her bets riding on a hidden agenda as well. As long as Link obtained the Master Sword, it made little difference as to what path they took there; This quickly became an internal mantra for the scheming Princess as the days rolled by.

She awoke to the sound of heavy rain pattering upon her window, shivering beneath the covers, and blinked a few times to clear her vision of sleep. She had no dreams that she could recall, and her slumber had become uneventful—This worried her slightly, but she took it as a positive sign. As she sat up, she stifled a yawn and looked around the sparse chamber with a dejected frown. She shook her head, "Of course, you're still here…" She told herself, with a sigh. "This isn't a nightmare, and you aren't a child that can just wake up and seek comfort anymore." She had taken to talking to herself in her isolation, balancing the two parts of herself, Wisdom and Zelda, to feel as though she had company. She chuckled to herself, smoothing a lock of dirty blonde hair into place._ If I didn't know better, I'd think I was going insane,_ She thought. But then, she had always felt like two competing people, trapped in the same being.

She pushed the covers aside, placing her feet upon the cold stone and stood, padding over to the chair to fetch her cloak. The slip she wore to bed held no defense against the chill, despite her becoming used to its consistency. As she draped it over her shoulders, she noticed the change in the weather, and her brows furrowed as she gazed out of the lonely window. "…That's odd…" She murmured, clutching the cloak for warmth. "The rain has settled…" Her ears twitched, as she considered this. If the weather was anything to go by in regards to the intent of her enemy, a sudden calm could only be a cause of concern.

Holding an incredulous look, she turned, and took to her usual routine; sitting at the desk at the corner of her prison to groom herself. Some habits die hard, she supposed.

She watched herself in the mirror, pulling the brush through her hair. She always preferred to look upon herself without her crown, as she flashed it a glance, sitting uselessly upon the table. It made her feel less like who she truly was… There was something uniquely powerful, she thought, in her humble appearance, unadorned and yet, still a proud and capable ruler for her age. Her reflection smiled back at her, as she ran her fingers through smooth tresses, satisfied with the result.

It was only then that a dark chuckle ran through her mind, the voice foreign in origin. She froze, surprised and taken aback, looking to her reflection. Within the dusty mirror, golden eyes stared back at her, piercing and full of intelligence, causing a shiver to crawl up her spine. Her back pressed against the wood of the chair, as if her body was trying to avoid the gaze as much as possible, as she struggled compose herself. Her reflection mocked her, copying every move, every expression, save the golden gaze that watched from her own eyes.

The reflection morphed and shifted, until a man appeared behind the glass, his face contorted into a cruel smirk. Zelda's stomach twisted in a strange way at the sight of him; A shock of bright crimson made up a fiery mane of hair, twisted into tight curls about a thorned crown, with dark skin that looked burnt and sooty in colour. He wore armour, imposing and strong, built around his large, muscular frame, with eyes like the desert sands, stained with blood. Everything about him seemed twisted to her, like an abomination of nature itself.

He shifted, leaning forward behind the glass, lacing his fingers in front of his face as he studied her. "Hello, Princess." His voice was rich and confident; a low rumble from his throat. Her lip twitched as a sneer crept over her mouth. "…And here I thought you'd never show yourself. At least I was partially correct." She spat, venom seeping into her voice. The chuckle ran through her again, the low sound reverberating within her bones. "Forgive me for not appearing in person just yet. I am a busy man after all… now that the King is dead, and Hyrule's Princess is more concerned with her hair than the prosperity of her country."

Zelda bristled, anger pulsing beneath her pale skin. _Opportunistic bastard_, she thought, clenching her jaw; indeed, not hours after the King's mysteriously sudden death, the coup had been staged and the castle easily overrun with Shadow Beasts. In the haste of it all, the Princess had barely gotten the chance to mourn her father at all. Her posture straightened, regaining her resolve in the face of her ultimate captor. "Manipulating the events, all without getting your hands dirty. How predictable." She said, biting back on her anger and keeping the emotion from her face.

"Predictable? …I suppose that is why you surrendered so easily. Inexperienced as you are, you saw futility of resistance." His lips curled into a grin that seemed to thinly veil a sneer- Or perhaps, that was natural for his face, made up of hard lines and creases formed from years of holding a permanent scowl.

Zelda suppressed the urge to copy his expression, keeping her serene features set. "Predictable, for there are many stories before this, all of which play out in the same way. Your defeat." She said it so easily, as if it was the most common knowledge in all the world. Ganondorf's face twisted into a humourless scowl, making the Princess automatically second-guess her statement with the ferocity it held, even without anger.

"Let us see how long you hold faith in stories, Princess, when Hyrule lies burning at your feet." He stared at her, with malice burning in his eyes. Ganondorf's gaze seemed to shift to her window, expression unchanged, as Zelda's head instinctively twisted to look in that direction. Her brows furrowed as she turned back to the mirror, her mind trying to decipher what he was looking at, and jumped slightly when she was faced with herself again. She let out a long sigh, holding her hand to her chest, as she fixed herself with a glare—Blue eyes stared back, and she knew she was alone once more.

She pushed against the wood of the desk, standing with annoyance. _Trying to intimidate me with parlour tricks… _She fumed within her mind, offended that she would be taken so lightly. She paced around her room, unable to vent her frustration with her position. _This may complicate things, the man is positively reprobate_, she hissed internally, running over her plans. In order to succeed, she needed his full attention, distracting him away from Link as much as possible… But how in Hell would she do that, when she could not stand even the sight of him?

She found herself staring out of the window, silently seething and racking her brain as to the best way to go about this. The calm rhythm of the rain did help to settle her some, as she took a deep breath, and sighed. There had to be something; a hint, an angle…

She frowned at the skies, trying to figure him out. He had been dressed for war, and his actions were typical in a military sense, so there was no anomaly there. Clearly, he knew what he was doing, and her lip twisted at the thought—There was an overwhelming sense of arrogance to him, his mannerisms… Even the way he addressed her. Just talking to him made her feel as if she were an ignorant child, the way he looked at her.

With those traits, it could have been any warlord… No, she had to think outside the box for this one. He already had her just where he wanted her, there was nothing she could give him politically that he hadn't already taken, and he seemed disinterested with her, only making contact to taunt or torment her. When he hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted, she thought, he just left me be.

With a huff of frustration, she sat upon the window sill, clasping her hands together tightly; When she was young, she was prone to temper tantrums, and would be scolded for them. Her nanny had taught her that, when she needed to calm down, she should clasp her hands tightly together and squeeze and release her frustration this way, like a Princess should—with dignity and grace. She squeezed tightly, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself, when from behind her eyelids, the room seemed to brighten slightly. She opened them slowly, furrowing her brows and peering out of the window for the source—The sun had risen high, hidden behind grey clouds, but illuminating them eerily. _It must be later than I thought_, She thought idly, giving a calming sigh. It was hard for her to keep track of time in this tower, especially with the weather outside, and her sleeping patterns had shifted because of it. She knew her tower faced West, and so when she could make out the sun, she knew it was in the afternoon, though this was hardly an accurate timing method.

Then it struck her, her eyes widening in realization. Her tower faced West, in the direction of the Desert, and she peered outward, searching for dunes upon the horizon. Indeed, she could see them, and considered the implication of this. He had looked to her window before he left, and she cursed herself for not making the connection earlier. The Gerudo no longer took up residence in the Desert, and in their place stood the Arbiter's Grounds, a prison for Hyrule's most wanted—The place of his failed execution and imprisonment. "Has he placed me within this tower for the view?"She brought a thumb to her mouth, biting down on the nail in thought.

She leaned against the stone at the side, gripping her cloak; "Of course he has." She scolded herself, frowning as she peered down at the Castle Town with a heavy heart. "He put you in this tower so you could watch your Kingdom fall by your own action… Just as he has had to, in the past." Her voice softened as she spoke, a sense of regret seeping into her belly.

Within minutes, the heavy footfalls of the guard climbing the stairway echoed behind her door, followed by a sharp knock and the clattering of a metal tray upon stone. She grimaced, waiting for the guard to retreat, before moving to push the door aside and claim her meal. She stared down at it with distaste, narrowing her eyes- It was a fair mixture of her treatment and the food itself, which squashed her appetite. Upon the tray was a goopy sludge made from oats, and an apple, with a tin mug filled with water. With a heavy sigh, she collected it, leaning against the heavy door to close it and padding over to her bed. Taking the mug of water and unceremoniously dropping the tray on the covers beside her, she sipped at it, ignoring the metallic taste that tinged it.

"If you can stomach the food, you can stomach dealing with him." She told herself, staring into the water. If she could only get to the library, she might be able to find out more; something to use against him, or bargain with. She had accepted herself a trophy of war, but it seemed now, besides that and the threat she may pose free, Ganondorf only intended to keep her as a source of amusement, to get the occasional rise out of.

_Let us see how long you hold faith in stories, Princess, when Hyrule lies burning at your feet_. Zelda knew this was no empty threat, she had seen the look in his eyes. If she couldn't figure out a weakness to exploit, something to hold his attention away from the others soon, he may make good on that promise before Link even had a chance to face him… And she would have a front row seat.

**A/N: Whoo! First chapter down.**

**A quick trip to the Library, and Zelda will have a fully fleshed out plan! YAY! ….But she'll have to be sneaky about it! .**


	3. Run

A week had passed, agonizingly slow, as the Princess paced her small confinement, waiting for the opportune moment. Since the first incident, the Dark Lord had appeared in her mirror thrice more—After the second time had become a battle of wits, he had bested her, and decided that was the best source of amusement as he would appear and taunt her beliefs and hopes. She growled to herself, heels clicking upon the stone floor as she stepped. He had a way of getting under her skin, and it worried her… _Not that I can be blamed, _she hissed mentally, _The bastard does it on purpose_. And with the knowledge of what he had done haunting her every time she gazed upon the light of day, it was little wonder why even Zelda had a hard time keeping her emotions in check.

But Zelda was determined not to play into his hand, and had also been noting each time the guard came on his rounds, and today, she was going to make her move. A large iron knuckle periodically checked on her, and after plucking up some courage three days ago, she had found that they swapped every so often, including when she bathed.

She had grinned to herself when she had poked her head out of the bathing chambers, only to find herself unguarded; Nobody thought the wise Princess foolish enough to try and escape such a heavily patrolled castle. But, because of this, it was the ground floor which held the most vigilance, leaving gaps in the upper floors—She'd have a clear shot to the library when they swapped the guard at her door. Only then, she'd have three hours to get to the library, find something that may help her, and return on the next swap; If she wasn't caught in the process, of course. And so, she had started keeping tabs on their movements, sitting close to her door and listening for the tell tale shifting of metal.

"Any minute now…" She mused, counting the seconds with each click of her heel. She was smirking to herself, pleased with her own cunning. "They'll trade places, three hours, a quick dash to the library, and then they'll trade again before a meal is taken up here. With any luck, the fools won't even notice I'm gone…" She chuckled, mischief lacing her voice. She didn't know what kind of routes they patrolled between her chamber and the library, but she had often snuck around as a child, avoiding her tutors when she found herself bored with lessons. _It'll be just the same as skipping arithmetic_, she thought, pausing as she heard some movement echo faintly through the stairwell. Kicking off her heels quickly, she held up the hem of her dress to dart down the stairs and stand behind the large, iron doors that served as the bars to her prison, ears twitching. Tentatively pushing the door open with the lightest creak she could manage, she poked her head out, looking down the corridor as a grin spread across her pink lips. Gone; Nothing but the torchlight, dimly flickering against the walls. Squeezing through the small gap, she pushed it closed, heart thumping in her chest with promise; She bunched up the layers of her skirts and tied them in a light knot near her upper thigh. A quick glance down each way was all she needed, as she bolted, slender legs swift upon the red carpet.

Were she not trying to be inconspicuous, she would've been laughing like a madman.

She couldn't remember the last time she had run like this, a feeling of exhilaration sweeping through her every time her feet hit the floor—So many years of stifled movement, slow and regal, she doubted they even knew she was capable of such agility. Turning down another corridor, she flew past suits of armour and tapestries, drawing deep of the smell of her home. She had missed it, the dank conditions of her room made her feel a million miles away from this place, and the flashes of red and assorted portraits of her heritage made her feel as if she were truly within her castle; it instilled her with a renewed sense of confidence.

It was a shame when these pleasant thoughts were shattered, as she turned another corner to glimpse an iron knuckle trudging through the hall; She gasped, halting immediately, and almost toppled over as she stumbled to hide behind a suit of armour. She peered out from behind it, crouching low and biting her lip. _Blast it all! That was close…_She cursed herself silently, almost throwing away her chance for a homesick daydream. She shifted nervously behind the statued display, watching the Iron knuckle with frustration. At the end of the hall were two large doors, set in a wall of carved marble. The library, she was so close she could smell the books… And that damned thing was walking towards it, of all things!

She grit her teeth, willing the abomination to turn down the hall, but to no avail. It continued on it's path, all the same, and worse than that, it paused in front of the library doors. Zelda's heart fell. This was probably it's post, and if so, it wasn't going to move any time soon. She couldn't afford any attention, but she had little choice; in desperation, she took the dagger from the suit of armour she hid behind and turned, tossing it down the corridor she had come from with some force. It hit the wall, causing a sharp clatter to echo forth, as Zelda stood flush against her guise, holding her breath.

"Hrrg?" The Iron Knucle, surprised, turned, and quickly made to investigate, as the clinking of metal and heavy boot-falls drew close to Zelda's position. A shiver shot through her as she saw his shadow, and shimmied around the armour, feeling the wind as he passed her, and turned down the corridor. She felt frozen with panic, but tore away from her hiding place in a mad dash, not even stopping to look behind her as she ran to the library doors and slipped inside. She shut it, pressing her back up against the door, panting as her heart raced. She had done it; the smell of dust and parchment filled her nose, as she frantically moved to hide in an aisle, just in case he came back and investigated. With bated breath, she waited, until she was sure she had gotten away with it, slowly moving to stand as her breath evened. A giggle escaped her lips, as she looked around, ecstatic, running her fingertips along a row of books to assure herself it was real. Her body was twitching with adrenaline, as she padded through the dark library, crystalline gaze scanning through the titles in search of a prize for her efforts.

She stopped in front of a large history book that piqued her interest, and plucked it delicately from the shelf, opening it to flip through the pages. She spent the next half hour doing this, skimming through books and placing them back when they revealed little more than what she already knew. With a sigh, she stood on her toes to replace one such tome; It held some interesting passages on Gerudo culture, though nothing more about the Dark Lord himself—It had only referred to him by name once, in a footnote beneath an artists depiction of the great cataclysm. Bringing her hand down to bite at her thumbnail, she frowned. Why was it proving so difficult to find information on the most infamous criminal mind in all of Hyrule's history? Surely, somebody had written a biography of him somewhere, hadn't they? She huffed in frustration, stalking down another aisle; Her castle held one of the richest libraries in the land, and not a scrap of information useful to her predicament could be found. The irony was torturous.

Her attention wandered to the side of her, catching a title that was familiar—she couldn't help the nostalgic smile that formed as she picked it from the shelf, running her hand over the cover. She opened to a random page, reading a paragraph before laughing quietly to herself. "Oh, Godesses, I can't believe I used to read this garbage…" She mused, squinting at the words with humour. It was a romance novel, not particularly well written, but one of her favourites in adolescence. She used to hide it behind other books, secretly indulging in its unlikely tale of star crossed lovers instead of studying, when she outgrew the ability to 'innocently' skip out on her lessons.

Distracted as she was by the find, though, she wouldn't notice another presence behind her until the heavy pressure of steel-like, corded muscle had her pressed against the wall; The novel that had betrayed her falling uselessly to the floor as the air was forced from her lungs. She gasped, frantically trying to peer over her shoulder in a moment of panic, but her blood ran cold with the familiar chuckle that rang out in the still air. He was in the castle! She hadn't even considered it, with his contact with her being based through a mirror. She had naturally assumed, if he was in the castle, that he would visit her in person. She cringed as she realized the whole thing was just another means to isolate her from what was happening around her, and never gave any proof of his absence; merely been suggestive of it. _Damn, damn, damn!_

"Sneaking past my guards like that…" He rumbled with a hint of amusement, "…I suppose you think yourself clever."

She could feel his breath upon the back of her neck, and would've recoiled had she not been pinned to a wall. She shifted, licking her lips to think of something to say. Her voice was not as even as she would've liked, when it came.

"…Not at all. Your guards are as blind as keese, a drunken fool could slip past them easily." She flinched as more pressure was applied, making it harder for her to breath. Ganondorf smirked at her remark—The man could snap her like a twig, if he so chose… And yet she still had the gall to insult him, even after being caught red-handed out of her room. None of his amusement showed in his low tone though, when he spoke.

"Well, once you are safely back in your quarters, Princess, I shall see to it that this rather egregious oversight is remedied immediately. What exactly do you think you're doing here?" A growl crept into his voice, demanding an appropriate answer.

Zelda didn't miss it, either. Drawing a painful breath, she decided she couldn't tell him the truth—Just because he wanted to torment her with the sight of his dark designs, didn't mean he couldn't find a way to do that with her in a dungeon.

"I… Came for reading material. I have finished all of the books in my quarters, and there is nothing more I can do to occupy myself…"

He scoffed, disbelievingly. "All this for something to read?"

"Ungh!" She whimpered, as her shoulder popped painfully under his weight.

"Do not lie to me." He hissed through clenched teeth, close to her pointed ear. That was when Zelda remembered the novel she had dropped.

"No, please! Look down there, I was reading that before you came…" She nodded to it, hoping to the heavens he would look.

Ganondorf scowled, gaze dropping slowly to the floor and spotting the novel—A glimpse of the cover showed it was nothing of concern; Romantic fiction, if he wasn't mistaken. Was she daft? An opportunity such as this, wasted on trash like that? …Perhaps she had been cooped up for to long. But Ganondorf surmised, even if she was telling the truth, a moment of lucidity would've lead her to something more worrying within the vast wealth of knowledge that was the Hyrulian libraries. He shifted slightly, releasing his weight for her to pick it up. There was no harm done so far, either way… Just a close call that would not be allowed for again.

Zelda dropped to her knees, her body pained still from being pinned, and scooped the novel into her arms desperately. She wouldn't look at him, not with the expression of fear etched on her face. With a sudden rush of wind, the room became blurry and hazed, causing her to flinch and shut her eyes tightly. When it stopped, she opened them slowly, feeling nauseated by the shift—She had been returned to her room. Hearing heavy steps behind her, she inclined her head when he paused at her door.

Ganondorf leaned with a hand upon the iron, not bothering to look in her direction.

"Leave here again, Princess," He said calmly, voice low and quiet. "…and you will be returned without feet."

Zelda shuddered as the door slammed closed, letting a shaky sigh slip from her lips, and clutched at the book gratefully. There was every chance that trashy romance had just saved her life, and though fright still pulsed in her veins, the thought gave her a wonderful idea; An awful idea.

A wonderfully, awful, idea.

**A/N: Ohoho, poor Zelda. She's such a good Princess, going to these lengths to protect Hyrule.**

**I'm sure everyone can see where this is going now… HA! I know, I'm predictable. Stfu.**

**Also, that last line reminds me of the grinch, but it fits, so whatever… It can stay.**

**And yes, from this point on it is a bit AU, timeline wise, because I brought Ganon in earlier than I was planning to/than he is in TP. But I couldn't resist. He's too awesome to wait for. Hehehe. 3 Thanks much for reading, guys. :D**


	4. Table for Two

Almost a month had passed by uneventfully, it was just over three weeks since Zelda had learned of Ganondorf's residence within the castle—Of course, security tightened exponentially, and there were now two Dark Knuckles stationed outside her stairway at all times. Zelda had not left her room since and was now brought up a wash basin, instead of being escorted to the bathing chambers. Ganondorf now checked on her everyday through the mirror, and to Zelda's surprise, she had managed to steer them to a civil point. A common subject of discussion was literature, and history, encompassing almost everything besides the details of their own past conflicts. It was a touchy subject, after all, and avoided accordingly. Although she was loathe to admit it, they were very like minded in many ways; They shared many interests, though, often had different opinions to offer about them. This meant that, civil as they had become, arguments were still very common—Though short lived, as Ganondorf would merely dismiss her and leave her be when this occurred. Zelda had grown frustrated with this; given tastes of his intellect, without the advantage of knowing his emotional stability when challenged. This made it extremely difficult for her to plan ahead, in some senses, and she realized she would be going out on a limb if everything went along as she intended. Still, she swallowed her distaste and presented herself in the best light she could whenever the Dark Lord appeared in the dusty mirror, and she was sure that, slowly, it was working.

"I suppose you'd rather starve, then?" Ganondorf teased, after Zelda had complained about the food she was being 'forced to endure'.

"…Of course not." She snapped defensively, giving the man in the mirror a pointed glance. "I am merely suggesting that I could become ill, if I'm not fed meat more regularly." She straightened her skirts, placing her hands in her lap.

"How is your health any concern of mine?"

"…I am a prisoner of war. A lot can be said for a leader, in how he treats his prisoners."

"I do not intend to send a positive message, Princess. Or have you already forgotten that?" He smirked at her, raising a large brow curiously.

She clicked her tongue, grimacing. "You and I both know my usefulness hasn't run it's course."

He chuckled darkly, leaning an elbow upon his knee. "Perhaps, but as to whom you are more useful makes it another matter entirely. That is the entire reason you are, as you say, a 'prisoner of war'."

She frowned lightly, finding herself being blocked on the matter, and so decided to change her approach. "I am not being fed properly, and I am hungry and concerned for my health, in the cold weather." She began, before smirking lightly. "And I'm sure you would be lonely if I were to simply die."

Ganondorf gave her a long stare, with an unreadable expression, before his brow twitched slightly. "…I would also be relieved. You're a burden to keep, you know, what with a sizable portion of men here to guard you, your need for constant surveillance and your spoilt demands for books and gourmet meals." By the time he finished, the cruel grin had returned. But his hesitation was all Zelda needed.

She chuckled, giving a cheeky smile. "Alright, fine. A proposition, then. If you feed me better quality meals, I will take them with you, in a setting of your choosing, so that we may converse as we do, and you can put your men to any task you see fit, with me in your company." She almost laughed when she saw surprise flash in his golden eyes.

Ganondorf brought a hand to his chin, scratching at his beard and staring her down as he seemed to consider this. Zelda kept her face as pleasantly neutral as she could, sensing that he was incredulous of her offer. After a moment of silence, the Gerudo gave a light nod. "Fine. I accept." His hand became a fist, and he leaned upon it boredly, with a light smirk. "I will send someone to fetch you, with an outfit."

Zelda's gut twisted, though her face didn't show it. An outfit of his choice? She supposed that was a good sign, but it didn't make her feel any less disgusted by what it may have meant. Instead, she gave a nod. "Good, I'll—"

"But…" He cut her off, his lips pulling back into a dangerous grin, bearing his fangs. "If you try to escape this place, or leave my presence unescorted, you will lose a finger for every attempt." He spoke those words as if they were delicious on his tongue; indeed, they probably were.

Zelda felt her chest tighten, but simply nodded again. "Tonight, then?" She offered weakly. Ganondorf leaned forward, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "I look forward to it." And with that, Zelda was faced with her own reflection, to prepare herself.

A few hours later, Zelda sat upon the side of her bed, waiting for the knock. Her simple request for better food had turned in her favour quite nicely—She would once again dine properly, and perhaps even regain some dignity, all the while being in a prime position to catch the Dark Lord's interest. Her wisdom told her that this was going quite well, and she was inching steadily closer to her goal, but inside, Zelda worried for where this was leading, and wondered if she would be able to complete her task at all. Though she had become used to him, and his presence had become slightly more bearable, her stomach turned at the thought that the only way to ensure his attention would be focused on her, more than Link, was through romantic means. For this, a part of her felt extremely fortunate that she was female, and beautiful enough to pull it off, having temporarily lost her status—Those romance novels enjoyed in her youth, in retrospect, was time well spent. But on the whole, she was disgusted by having to resort to such a rouse, and worse, what it would require the longer her Hero took.

She sighed as she heard steps echoing from the stairway, and stood as the knock came, moving to open the door. An Iron Knuckle stood, dress in hand, and held it out for her to take. She almost rolled her eyes when she saw it—Black and red silks, with golden hems and embroidery. It was not unlike her usual gown, though simpler, with long sleeves. She took it, hiding a grimace, and turned to change, laying the dress upon the bed. She stopped though, and glared toward the Iron Knuckle, who stood in the door frame, watching. She held out a hand, making a flicking motion. "Shoo."

The beast tilted it's head, confused, and with a huff, Zelda pushed him back and closed the doors herself, to get dressed with an annoyed frown.

The Iron Knuckle flinched as the doors were slammed in his face, shrugging a bit, and waiting. After a few minutes, they opened again, revealing the Princess, who looked to be in a very sour mood now; The poor Iron Knuckle shrunk back from her a little, before offering an arm to escort her, unsure of himself.

Zelda glowered at him, with a heavy sigh; There was nothing she could do, she may as well get it over with, and so she accepted the arm and allowed herself to be escorted. She hated the dress. Comfortable, yes; Flattering, very. It hugged every curve, and with a long Vee neckline, it accentuated her slender neck and shoulders, while drawing attention to her bust line—And a very suggestible cleavage. Her eye twitched as she thought about it. _Predictable,_ She hissed in her mind, as they walked, _Absolutely predictable, arrogant, perverted bastard. _What really stung, however, was that it was she who had put herself in this position; It was her that had suggested dinner with the Dark Lord; It was her that was trying to romantically sway him, ultimately, and he was playing into her hand. She was winning and losing at her own game. She sneered.

By this point, the Iron Knuckle was staring at her, wanting to get away from her as quickly as possible; All of her shifting facial expressions worried him, and quite frankly, he was more than a little uncomfortable by the time they reached the dining hall. He led her inside, before releasing her, giving a curt nod, and making a swift exit.

Inside, the dining hall was adorned with tapestries and paintings, lit by two candle chandeliers with red curtains framing the windows of the wall to her left—grey skies, as usual. A long table was centered in the room, with two places set a few seats apart, one at the head of the table, where a large and ornate chair sat, unoccupied. Zelda knew it was not her place, and smoothed out her dress with a sigh, allowing the light click of her heels to take her to her seat. She sat, tucking her ankles beneath the chair and placing her hands in her lap, annoyed that Ganondorf was not her. Not so much for the lack of his presence, but more because it meant he was busy with something—Which couldn't be good, at any rate—or she was in to lose a finger.

After a few minutes, she didn't bother to hide her concern, frowning openly and leaning a hand on the table, rapping her fingers impatiently. She wasn't allowed to move, and so that meant she could not look for him, nor return to her room. The corner of her mouth twitched when a thought ran through her mind, and her offense to it outweighed any possible relief. "Don't tell me that bastard stood me up…!" She hissed to herself quietly, glaring down at the silverware.

"You've never heard of fashionably late, Princess? How unusual." The deep voice chuckled from the doorway, causing her to jump and stare at him. The look on her face was priceless, as the surly Gerudo uncrossed his arms from his chest, making his way into the room with a slow gait. A dark smirk was plastered on his face; he hadn't recalled this being a date, so it was odd that she would use such a term as 'stood up', had he not shown. It amused him to no end, as innocent as it was… So he let the bastard comment slide; after all, he supposed that was accurate enough.

"Still. Obedient little thing, aren't you? Haven't moved an inch since you sat down." He cocked a brow, drawing his cape to the side as he sat at the head of the table, casting her an appreciative glance.

Zelda suppressed the urge to slap him, and skillfully replaced it with what looked to be a relieved smile. "So, I can keep all my digits. That's good news." He was looking at her figure, she could see it in his eyes. _Damn it, stop that! _She shouted in her head, feeling scrutinized and overexposed—She could even feel the burn of a blush threatening to colour her cheeks. His eyes turned to her face, and she looked down at the plate automatically; she tried to hide it with conversation. "I'd imagine I'd be hard pressed to keep myself amused, otherwise…" She offered a small smile, but it faltered as she noticed he was giving her an odd look. When she realized why, she really did blush, and corrected herself quickly. "It is rather hard to turn the pages without fingers, after all." She gave a small chuckle, but it was an awkward moment, and there was nothing she could do to change that now. So she resolved to remain silent for the moment. _Damn_.

Ganondorf kept an eye on her, growing suspicious. He could have sworn she'd uttered something sexual before she had corrected herself. "…Indeed." Was all he could muster, leaning his elbows upon the table and lacing his fingers in front him, resting his chin upon his thumbs. Then again, she had been cooped up with a romance novel, he recalled.

He was pleased, though; The dress suited her, and even silent, she was proving pleasant company. He smirked behind his hands; _There's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you paid for_, he thought.

With a slight commotion from the smaller doors behind him, a few Dinofos appeared, carrying trays and platters of food and began to set the table. One placed wine chalices beside each Royal, pouring the crimson liquid and placing the bottle beside it's master, before they each scurried off from whence they came.

Zelda gazed upon the assorted food; Fruit, roasted meat, pudding, wine… It was the best looking meal she had seen in what felt like forever, and it smelt divine—The spices upon the air taunted her nose and moistened her tongue. But she dared not move, not until Ganondorf gave her a slight nod did she begin to gather food onto her plate.

He noticed this, and a tingle shot up his spine—She was certainly well behaved in his presence, apparently she was a fast learner; The power he held over her was more delicious than any morsel. Slowly, he sat up, plucking a fork from the table and began to follow suit. "I see your daily apple is not going astray."

Zelda paused, blinking, as she peered down to notice she had gathered a few slices of apple upon her plate, among the other choices. She tilted her head, taking a breath as she considered what to say. "Conditioning, I suppose. It was one of the few decent things I've had to eat since being locked away up there." She sat her full plate in front of her, taking a small sip of the wine.

"…And grown from the castle's own orchard, no less. It is quite impressive." He mused, gathering some meat onto his plate before setting down.

Zelda couldn't stop herself in time. "What's impressive, is the fact it wasn't burnt to the ground…" She snapped, pausing mid cut as it left her mouth. Her gaze lifted slowly to meet his, a part of her expecting to be hit. Much to her chagrin, he grinned.

"No, Princess…" He chuckled, "What is impressive, is the fact that your tongue keeps betraying you, even at the risk of being removed." He leveled her with a hard stare as he finished, popping a piece of meat into his mouth. _I knew it was too good to be true_, he thought with some humour.

Zelda concealed a sneer behind her wine chalice, sipping at it. _Another threat of bodily harm. Typical,_ She thought. But then, she supposed she could count her blessing he hadn't made good on any of them… Yet. A good minute or two of tense silence passed between them, each continuing on with their meal.

Finally, refilling his chalice, Ganondorf cast her a curious glance. "So, was that book worth the hassle?"

The Princess set her knife and fork down, pushing the plate away from her, and met him with a pleasant look. "It's an old favourite. Reminds me of when I was younger, and things were simpler." She stated calmly, narrowly avoiding the question.

Ganondorf swirled the wine idly, before taking a long draught. "I never picked you for having a taste for that garbage." He said coolly, raising his brows and awaiting a retort.

Zelda simply gave him a smile, with her hands resting in her lap. "To each their own; Some of us find interest in such things." She lied; When she was thirteen, perhaps. But it worked, as she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Really?" His voice was stained with sarcasm and distaste, and shrugged lightly, "Whatever comforts the weak, I suppose." He sniped, taking another sip of his drink, and watching her intently. He could see her boiling beneath the surface, though he had to commend her, she hid it fabulously. He waved a hand towards the dessert. "Pudding?"

"Please." It came out more aggressively than she would have liked, but that didn't seem to affect anything, so she let it pass and held out a smaller plate as he cut and placed a slice. She reached out a hand, fetching the cream, and poured some before curtly passing it to him. She almost felt like biting something. Hard. But, she settled for changing the subject. "So, do you intend to take a wife, during your reign?" She said casually, peering at him as if they were talking about the weather.

Ganondorf could've choked on his spoon, and his suspicion came flooding back, as he shot her a surprised, yet withering, look. "You told me I wouldn't have a reign." He said, incredulously.

Zelda matched him, and shot back immediately. "And you told me I shouldn't hold faith in old stories." Her voice was even, if a bit cocky.

The clattering of a spoon against a plate rang out, as Ganondorf settled the Princess with an unwavering stare. She was up to something, he was sure of it now. Surely, she wasn't suggesting… His jaw shifted, before he inclined his head, growling a definitive, "…No."

Zelda suppressed a shiver, under the intensity of his glare; He seemed pointedly resolute. She forced herself to smile sweetly at him, swallowing her nervousness. "How unfortunate." She offered pleasantly, eating another spoonful of pudding.

And so, their first meal together drew to a close, as they finished in silence, and the Princess was escorted back to her quarters. Once there, she couldn't wipe the smirk from her face—The seed was planted, and now it would grow, until it blocked out everything else.

**A/N: Now we're getting somewhere. What a sneaky bitch. **


	5. Double or Nothing

Ganondorf paced his quarters, thinking with a confused scowl; Every now and then he would glace towards his armour, sitting polished upon a mannequin, as if it would ease his mind. He was perplexed, and it was not often that the Gerudo entered such a state—A paranoid mind usually allowed him swift assessments and conclusions, but this time he was left wondering about a broad range of possible scenarios.

He wore his under-dressings, an ash grey tunic padded with fur, and dark trousers with heavy boots. Without the metal cladding his body, his movements were surprisingly quiet for a man of his stature, leaving a good amount of silence in which his thoughts could echo. Since yesterday's dinner, he had not bothered to contact the Princess through the mirror as he did on a daily basis—In fact, he had all but forgotten to. Her words ran through his mind again and again, all of her mannerisms and any possible hints from previous conversations that had gone amiss; The more he thought on it, the more he came to think that the Princess had been attempting to slyly court him. He was sure of it now, after the conversation with her last night had heralded a potent question—Would he take a wife in his reign?

He snorted at the memory, her voice chiming through his head uninvited once again. He hadn't paid marriage any thought, why would he? A few concubines would slick his lust. But this was not what worried him… It was the fact that the Princess had brought it up; Casually, over dinner, as well.

It was unthinkable to him that she would have any interest in his life, in such a way. By all rights, they should not be on the speaking terms that they were; How could he be so blind as to allow her such proximity over time, without noticing? Mere surveillance had turned to amusement in flustering her, taunting her—How had he allowed it to slip beyond that, and into pleasant conversation? She couldn't possibly have developed an attachment to him, based solely on that, not after all he had put her through… It made little sense. Even isolated and lonely though she may have become, civil conversation should be the extent of her intentional dealings with him. Had she brainwashed herself into delusion, locked away with that blasted novel?

_Possible, though highly unlikely_, he thought, _Especially for the bearer of Wisdom._

He knew he certainly hadn't caused this, either way; Civility is a far cry from pleasant company, and even then, he laced it with an appropriate amount of hostility. Ganondorf gave a frustrated sigh, and sat in a large armchair, slumping and allowing his fingers to rap upon the arm of it impatiently. His face had contorted into one of annoyance, his brow creased and his eyes narrowed. This was getting him nowhere; so he decided to switch his thinking, muttering to himself. "…Disregard the question of if, and focus on why… Say she has been actively seeking to court me with subtlety, what reason would she have to do so, knowing that it is unlikely to occur naturally…?" A large hand rose to absently toy with his beard, lightly tugging and scratching at the hair. His jaw shifted with thought as he glared off into the dark space of his quarters, the dim light of the fire shifting in intensity.

Naturally though, Ganondorf did not share Zelda's Wisdom to aid in his contemplation; instead, his mind had always been tainted by thoughts of Power—It was the entire reason behind his military successes in the past, and his manipulative nature. He knew what drove people, and how to sway them to his own desires. If ever he encountered a man that he could not figure out, he would simply pick them to pieces using whatever he could—Everyone had a vice, a secret, and a desire to be exploited, a sin to be exposed and a virtue for the rending. It was merely a game of finding out which was which. In his mind, Zelda was no different, if perhaps a bit better guarded than most; and it was this train of thinking that would ultimately bring him to what he concluded must be the case.

His hand dropped away from his face slightly, hanging in the air as an expression of realization took him, a moment of eureka shining in his golden eyes. "…She thinks she can reclaim power over her Kingdom by means of marriage. If you cannot beat them, join them;" His lips split into a cocky grin. "In marrying me, she would regain some influence as to how her country is run, and could better satisfy her concerns, if not protect it at the source. Clever girl." He chuckled to himself, thoroughly impressed by the Princess' tactics. He was almost tempted to let her plans go uncontested, if this were the case; Certainly, he held no qualms in owning Hyrule's most protected asset besides the Holy Relic, of which he already held a piece. Of course, if Zelda thought she would hold any sway over him as a wife, she would be sorely disappointed… And what better an opportunity would present itself in such a way?

Hyrule would be his, in her entirety, and his place on the throne cemented by the Princess' hand. Hell, cut out Zant from the equation and throw him to the Hero as a scapegoat; The Twili siege would cease, Twilight would no longer cover Hyrule, and the Link would probably think no more of it, with Zelda convinced she had control over her Kingdom beside him, to keep the Dark Lord in check. Doubtless, that selfish little imp Midna would be satisfied enough with Zant dead and her people free, she wouldn't contest it, running back to her kingdom to rebuild. With any luck, Ganondorf would never even see the boy's face. It was perfect.

He laughed to himself, pleased with the situation, and rubbed his hands together. He was looking forward to this; In a rare display, he would attend tonight's dinner dressed as he was, without the implied hostility of his armour- He snickered as he shot himself a smirk in the polished reflection. "Let's just see how this pans out…"

Zelda had waited by her mirror for at least an hour, expecting Ganondorf's face to appear and replace her own, but the apparition never showed. Assuming she was early, she had taken to reading upon her bed, idly glancing at the mirror and checking for the tell tale streak of red, but as the time past, she was left disappointed. She worried, when she realized he would not be checking up on her today, and wondered what it may mean; It could have been a number of things, but what concerned her most was that either Link was in peril, or that she had driven him away with her gambit last night. She cursed herself, thinking that she had been too forward with her questioning of his personal affairs; Taking a wife, as if an idiot couldn't see through that as blatant flirtation.

Maybe she had overestimated her magnetism with men… Worse, perhaps underestimated his intuitiveness; Surely he hadn't realized that she was trying to distract him away from Link? Maybe it was just outright foolish of her to entertain the notion that feminine charms could distract a man from conquest; from his enemies… When she thought of it that way, it did indeed sound foolish. Whatever the case, his attention was not on her, and so, if she couldn't correct this as soon as possible, she knew her plan would fail.

When it came close to the time dinner would be served, she was actually thankful for the revealing nature of the dress she had been given, and even prepared ahead of time. She had combed through her hair, making sure not a strand was out of place, and did not don her crown—_Submission appeals to a man of his nature_, she thought. She studied her appearance in the mirror, turning her head from side to side as she thought about how she could enhance her beauty with what little resources she had at her disposal. Glancing down toward the fire place, she arched a delicate brow, padding over to bend and collect a small piece of charcoal, looking at it curiously. Pursing her lips in thought, she stood, taking her place in front of the mirror and tentatively testing the charcoal on her fingers, rubbing it lightly until a dark shade stained her skin.

"That might work…" She mused, smiling to herself, as she applied a light shade upon her eyelids with her finger, smudging until she got the smokey effect she desired. She smirked, admiring her handiwork. _Excellent,_ She thought, _A pair of bedroom eyes, if ever I saw them. That ought to grab his attention again._ Smoothing out the dress she had been given, and picking any loose strand of hair from it that she found, she waited, biting her lip so that it would appear full and pink. She couldn't help but feel prideful of her resourcefulness; it was a stretch, but if she could appeal to him sexually, perhaps that would be enough to reverse the effect of whatever he had ignored her for, and switch his focus back to a more persuasive source—She was loathe to do it, but if a sweet personality wasn't enough, this was the only thing she had left to resort to. When the knock came, she held her head high and hoped for the best, relieved that their dining arrangement had persevered.

In the dining hall, Ganondorf once again sat at the head of the table, which was in the process of being set by various Dinofos with a similar platter to the night before, and seemed more relaxed than usual as he waved the monstrous servants away, "That will do." He said boredly, pouring himself a drink. The door opened, and with a clicking of heels, Zelda stepped through, escorted by an Iron Knuckle; Ganondorf's gaze flicked to her, noticing the subtle changes—He smirked, _She is definitely trying, isn't she?_ Though he couldn't deny, it was effective.

Zelda turned to walk to her seat, but couldn't hide the relief that flashed on her face when she saw that he was here on time—Then she noticed something. _He's not wearing his armour?_ She blinked, studying him subtly as she sat; _Is he trying to make me feel more comfortable around him? _She smiled at the thought, but outwardly, offered it with a greeting. "Good evening." _…You predictable sod- Hook, line and sinker._

Ganondorf actually managed a small smile, arching a brow. "Yes, I trust you kept yourself entertained today, without any trouble." _…Not that you had a spare moment, in between improvising with your make-up and gussying up, you sneaky wench. _He couldn't help but wonder what exactly she had used, knowing she did not have any cosmetics on hand, and took the bottle, filling her chalice with wine.

Zelda gave a light nod, accepting the drink and holding it briefly beneath her nose. "I passed the time reading… Though I can assure you, your presence was sorely missed." She teased, giving a condescending look—He seemed to be rather relaxed tonight, as opposed to their previous meal, so she took a chance with some light humour. She had managed to get away with it before, and his responses were a good indicator of how far into his good graces she was, whenever she was unsure of herself.

The Gerudo chuckled, taking a sip of the crimson liquid. In his experience, she was only humourous when she felt at ease—The casual attire seemed to have been a smart call; Not that he wasn't in a good mood, since figuring her out; this evening seemed set to flow smoothly. "As is to be expected." He smirked, giving a curt nod. "My apologies." He then began to gather food on his plate, gesturing for her to do the same.

Zelda followed suit, smiling to herself as she did; He was almost pleasant, as opposed to last night, and she felt a small thrill of victory in her chest. She had gotten the desired effect, and if things continued, she'd have him in the palm of her hand in no time—With Ganondorf occupied, Link's efforts would go as easily as possible, if not quicker. Setting her plate down, she took a small bread roll, buttering it and offering him a glance. "This is the first time I've seen you out of your armour, I was beginning to think you slept in it. Though, I much prefer you without it, you almost seem human."

Ganondorf had set his plate down, and returned the glance with a smirk, picking up his silverware. "There is little need to remain dressed for conquest, Princess; in a place one has already conquered." He began to cut some meat, before continuing. "Which brings me to question your attire as well…" His brow rose, a bite of meat poised at his mouth. "You do not look like Hyrule's Princess, dressed as you are. I see only a woman in her place." He took the bite, chewing slowly, confident eyes fixed on her.

Zelda swallowed a mouthful of food, pausing to bite back her initial response, and replace it with something more advantageous. Holding her head high, she returned his gaze. "I will always be Hyrule's Princess, Ganondorf, and that is how people have and will always see me." But then she saw an opportunity she couldn't pass by, and seized it, not missing a beat. "…What they do not care to see, is the woman who she has always been, tucked away behind protocol and duty. Since my status makes little difference in your opinions of me, I see no harm in relaxing my image." She gave a small smile. "It is rather taxing, presenting oneself in a certain light at all times, reigning in any visible flaws." She gave a chuckle, raising her chalice to her lips. "In the midst of my enemy, who could blame me for wanting to preserve as much energy as possible?" She sipped her wine casually, satisfied with how she turned that around—She'd even managed to play it off with a witty retort.

The Gerudo gave a click of his tongue and tilted his head, smirking all the while. "…And here I half expected you to be made of porcelain." He glanced at his plate, collecting a few morsels on his fork. "Aren't you just full of surprises…" He gave her a good once over as they both resumed eating. For a moment, she almost had him sold; She was wonderful actress… He almost felt a tinge of pity for her. _A woman stifled in the façade of a Princess, how cliché,_ He thought, amused; Though, he wondered if it was perhaps, just a conveniently presented truth. He supposed it didn't matter; her actions were confirming his theory, and whether she was telling the truth or lying through her teeth made little difference to him—He was content to let her have her way, in this particular case, and allowing her the delusion that she had control of the situation worked to his benefit, anyhow.

The Princess, when she had finished, set down her cutlery and pushed her plate aside, placing her hands in her lap and getting a good look at him. Funnily enough, he didn't lose any of his powerful aura without the armour; He seemed more relaxed, yes, and perhaps even more approachable, but maintained an air of intimidation and dominance that was not to be taken lightly. She almost laughed at herself as the thought struck her; Very few people would have the fortitude to attempt what she was doing—In fact, she was very likely the only person even capable of pulling it off. If she were anybody else, she'd be dead or close to it… A part of her was still terrified of the man, and yet here she sat, continuing on in her plan to capture his affections, all for the slim chance it would help ensure their victory.

When she noticed he had finished his meal and was looking at her, she snapped out of her reverie and offered him a smile to cover her staring. "I never thanked you for allowing me such liberties, given our position. The food is delightful, as is the wine and surprisingly, your company." She offered, deciding to appeal to his ego. "For a ruthless warlord, you are quite the gentleman, when the occasion calls for it." She chuckled, reaching for her chalice.

Ganondorf couldn't help the cocky grin that slowly crept over his face; He knew her game, but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying it. "I am also a King," He chuckled, "As am I a brother and a son. You should count yourself lucky I have an ingrained respect for women… Even if, in your case, it is given grudgingly." He held the bottle, pouring himself more wine, as he settled his gaze on the chalice. "Though, I must admit, you are slowly earning it for yourself, Princess." And indeed, she really was; Clever little thing. She had frustrated him, her family had long been a recipient of his loathing and resentment, and she was not immune to it, inheriting her ancestor's burdens… But she had also amused him, impressed him and surprised him. She didn't falter, and even at her lowest, she refused to break, trying to claw her way back to where she felt was her rightful place—And this, all things aside, had earned his respect. However, this did not mean he would relent, nor would it save her country from his designs; At the very most, he would allow her to live at his side, and at the very least, allow her a merciful death.

Zelda hesitated when he said it, searching the comment for sarcasm or cruelty, anything to suggest that it was false, but she found it to be genuine. Her chest swelled with a secret pride, and she gave him a faint, though genuine, smile. "Thank you." She uttered quietly, finishing the last of her drink. For a moment, in her surprise, she wondered if he was on to her, but then she remembered the gravity of her situation—Even without her plans, the fact that she was still mentally intact and capable was a feat in itself.

_How ironic_, She thought, _That this small exchange may be the only genuine thing said between us at all_.

Ganondorf, holding his chalice and swirling it, noticed the subtle change his confession caused; it was only a flicker, but it was enough for him to note, and he tucked it away in the back of his mind. Raising a brow, he continued on the course the conversation was taking previously. "I take it you rather enjoy being out of your room, even at small intervals?"

The Princess tilted her head, her face contorting into a mocking look. "Whatever gave you that idea? I love being confined to small, cold places." She said, every word dripping with sarcasm, as her lips spread into a cheeky grin, drawing a chuckle from the Gerudo. She took a small plate, and placed one of the tea cakes upon it, setting it in front of her—A flutter of excitement tickled her, as she could see this may lead; The less time she spent in her room, the better, as far as she was concerned. She hated it up there, and it meant there was a distinct possibility of spending more time with him, more of his attention.

"Of course," He began, "If I were to allow you out of your room… You would be spending the time in my company." He smirked, he could already see her accepting the offer; it was written all over her face. "…That wouldn't be a problem, would it, Princess?"

Zelda bit into her desert, holding it lightly by its paper, and wiped the crumbs from her lip as she pretended to consider it. She swallowed lightly, before sending him a contemplative glance, laced with a smile. "I suppose I'll manage it somehow… Yes." She giggled, trying to keep a grip on the crumbling cake.

Ganondorf nodded, "Good. I shall fetch you tomorrow." He gave her a wicked sort of smile, mischief dancing in his golden eyes. This was all too easy, and as his eyes lowered to roam her frame, he was silently pleased that this was the game Zelda had decided to play… He almost felt guilty, taking advantage of her desperate scheme—Almost. As the Princess finished her desert, he rose, stepping to stand beside her and offer her his hand. She took it, smoothing her dress, and grasped a very muscular arm as it turned out he was to escort her back to her room; A slight fear rushed through her, thinking he may try to take advantage once they reached their destination, but she shrugged it off—It was best not to think about it, and she didn't think they were near that point yet. She shivered as she was reminded that intimacy with him may not be far off, at the rate they were going; She doubted he was the sort to consider it inappropriate before marriage, and her gut twisted nervously at the thought.

When he noticed her shiver, she smiled, "It is rather cold tonight, isn't it?"

The Gerudo nodded, "Yes, it is. You can warm yourself with a fire soon enough." As they walked, he noticed her fingertips squeezing lightly upon his arm, and suppressed a chuckle; She was examining his muscle, and idly, he doubted she had ever been able to inspect a man's flesh closely at all. The poor girl probably didn't even know what a man looked like beneath clothes, save for perhaps the odd, vague descriptions she may have happened upon. A dark thought ran through his mind, as he cast her a sly side-glance; _Well, we'll have to remedy that, soon enough._ A smirk was set into his hard features for the rest of the journey, until finally, the pair climbed her stairway, and stopped at the top of it.

Zelda gave a light sigh, opening her door and turning in the doorframe to offer him a smile. "Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then…" Before she could move any further, Ganondorf reached forward, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. Zelda nearly stopped breathing when his mouth brushed her pale skin, warm breath fanning over it; She felt as if she'd been electrocuted, as the shock rolled up her arm, and traveled down her spine with a tiny shudder. The Gerudo's eyes locked with hers, and he released her hand, with a sneaky grin. "Goodnight, Princess." He said with a low rumble, almost like a purr, before turning to descend the steps, leaving her alone without another word.

Zelda stood there for a moment, staring at her hand as if he'd bitten her, before moving into her room and leaning against the door to close it. Her legs failed her, as she shakily slid down the metal until she sat upon the stone floor. She didn't know what it was that shot through her moments before; Maybe shock, or disgust, or fear… Maybe even something else entirely—But whatever it was, she was petrified.


	6. Bitter Acuity

Zelda sat upon her throne, looking out across the large hall, and out to corrupted skies—Her hands gripped the arms of the mighty chair, goddesses above her and her sword in her lap. She felt powerful, regal; She was in her rightful place, and nothing would move her. At the entrance, a streak of green moved into vision through the mist of the outside world, and Zelda's brows furrowed as she took up her sword and stood, calling out.

"Link…? Link! You are well! I'm so glad, I knew you would come through." She chimed, a happy smile spreading across her lips as she stepped down from the marbled dais, waving a hand to him. He drew closer, though didn't seem to hear her, sword and shield at the ready; He looked confused, wild eyes roaming the throne room as if searching for something. The Princess, not receiving a response, continued to slowly approach him, tilting her head as she studied his expression. "…Link?" She repeated, unsure of herself now, and growing concerned. The Hero's eyes snapped to her, as a frown took hold of his features, shocked and cautious—They stood at an impasse, exchanging mutual apprehension.

Zelda's hand twitched, clutching her tapered sword, and the Princess could only watch in horror as her own body began to defy her, raising the sword to Link's throat. "No…" She uttered helplessly, shaking her head. "No! This isn't right! Where is Midna? Where is Ganondorf? Why is this happening? Link!" She cried, shaking with terror, as the Hero's posture shifted to one of combat—His eyes held all the determination of a killer. She watched as his muscles tensed, coiled tight like a spring, ready to strike her down at any moment; A flash of light shone from his blade, as he raised it to meet hers.

Within a moment, her body defied her again, pushing against his blade and jumping back, only to have Link draw his weapon to his side and lunge at her, thrusting. "Link, stop!" She yelled desperately, as their blades clashed, sending loud echoes through the air—Her body continued to move on its own, as Link parried and countered her every move, before knocking her back with his shield. Zelda stumbled back with a grunt, the wind stolen from her, and tripped over a step on the dais of her throne; Dropping the sword as she peered back over her shoulder, she fell, flinching and shutting her eyes tightly.

She fell onto something soft, though, instead of the hard marble she expected, and opened her eyes, blinking with confusion—Grass. She was now in Hyrule field, her crystalline gaze searching the area frantically; The sky was dark, and the bridge of Eldin in the distance was barely visible, even as she awkwardly climbed to her feet. Panting, she held a hand to her chest, relief washing over her.

"Princess? Are you alright?" A concerned voice called out from behind her, light boot falls thumping upon the grass as they approached.

Zelda turned, surprised, and almost choked when she saw Link once more, holding up her hands to prevent him from coming closer. "Link! No! Stay back! I won't fight you!" The Hero came to a stop, panting and unarmed—His sword was in its sheath and shield strapped to his back, as Link peered up at her through dirty blonde bangs, concern in his eyes.

"Fight you? What are you talking about?" He questioned, taking another slow step towards her and offering her a hand. "It's not safe here, Princess, You have to come with me… I'll help you." He smiled reassuringly, his face friendly and warm. Zelda stared at his gloved hand, and then at his face, her panic slowly subsiding, as she smiled weakly, and reached for his hand. Only then did her heart fall, as the very earth beneath her feet began to crumble and give way, fear tainting her delicate features.

"Link!" She cried, as she began to fall, holding out her hand and trying to grab hold of his. The boy made a desperate leap to catch her, but was unsuccessful, as he could only watch in horror as she fell away into the newly formed abyss, leaning over the ledge with his hand outstretched to her still. Zelda screamed as she plummeted into darkness, Link's face growing further and further away until she couldn't see anything, not even her own arms reaching out in front of her face.

With a shriek, Zelda sat bolt upright in her bed, finding that the covers had been tussled and kicked of off her body, and her skin was clammy with sweat. Her heart raced, as her vision slowly came to, and blinking she looked around her room, clutching her sheets. _A nightmare_, she thought with relief, _Just some awful nightmare._ She brought her hands to her cheeks, drawing her knees to her chest with a heavy sigh and a shiver.

After so long in this place without dreams, her mind raced to find some meaning from it, though she didn't want to remember it at all, terror fading slowly from the fringe of her brain. Rain was hammering down against her window, and the air was chilled, her fire having gone out during the night and leaving little more than coals. Tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her pointed ear, she shifted, sitting on the side of her bed and composing herself.

She jumped as a knock rang out, springing to her feet and collecting her cloak of the chair to cover her slip. "Y-yes?" She called, as it opened to reveal the source of her waking nightmares, Ganondorf, who leant against the door frame with a confused look, a brow aloft. He wore the same outfit as he did yesterday, though this tunic was dark red in colour.

"…Still in bed at this hour?" He teased, noticing she had obviously just risen—Her hair was mussed, her eyes tired and she was undressed, her cloak being her only decency as it sat upon her shoulders. The Princess sniffed, clearing her nose and rubbing it lightly, and clutched the cloak around her, giving him a nervous smile. Still shaken by her night terrors, she didn't want to raise his ire this morning… If it was morning.

"Forgive me, I hadn't forgotten, I've just… had a troubled sleep." She offered, rubbing her arms through the fabric to warm herself. She would've been more embarrassed about her state in front of him, had she not been so unsettled, but since it was a true enough reason, it would have to suffice as an explanation.

The Gerudo had heard her shriek when he'd climbed her stairway, and had half expected to catch her out in the middle of some half baked scheme, but when she explained herself, he couldn't help but be curious. "A nightmare… I can sympathise with that." A cruel smirk became apparent, before he hid it behind a fist, trying to look as if he was considering something. "…Do my actions haunt even your dreams, Princess?"

Zelda shuddered at the title—With the memory of still fresh in her mind, she didn't want to hear it. "Zelda." She corrected him, a knee jerk reaction, but seeing a surprised look upon his face, she settled her attention on him and forced a light smile. "You may… call me Zelda." She sighed lightly, wanting to move on as soon as possible. "…And no, actually. You weren't in it at all." She admitted, relying on his ego-centrism, and thinking he would drop it since it didn't apply to him. "Now, if you'll kindly allow me a moment to compose myself, and get dressed…" She hinted.

The Gerudo chuckled, nodding, "As you wish…" He turned his back to her, an evil grin appearing as soon as she couldn't see his face. "…Zelda." _On a first name basis, that's an intriguing step,_ He thought, pleased. She closed the door behind him, and something within him felt strange knowing that he was not the source of her nightmares. He didn't know if liked that or not, but he shrugged it off, thinking little more of it—He was more taken with the image of her in nothing more than her slip, with only a cloak draped haphazardly over her shoulders.

After a few minutes, the Princess' door opened, revealing her to be dressed and presentable—Her hair was not immaculate, and she still held a tired appearance, though she was decent. Ganondorf inclined his head, giving her a once over and a chuckle. "Well, well… Little miracles." He grinned, and offered his arm for her to take. Zelda gave him a pleading look, taking the arm and giving a light yawn, patting her lips. She smiled up at him as they began to descend the steps.

"And where would you be taking me, pray tell?" _…Please, don't say your quarters._ He pushed the heavy door open, as they left the stairwell, entering the still hallway, and gave her a side-long glance. "You took a daring chance for a book before. I thought you might enjoy picking out a few more… Within reason, of course." He gave a cocky grin, as they retraced the path she had taken to the library once before, though this time at a leisurely pace.

Zelda relished the smell upon the air in the library, familiar and reassuring as it was to her—Despite their last interaction within these walls, this was the area of the castle Zelda spent any free time in over the course of her life, and so even in his presence, she felt at peace here. She couldn't wipe the smile off her face, as she was allowed to roam through the aisles freely, even with the Dark Lord shadowing her—A small part of her hated to be this genuinely happy in front of him, and even with her little act being the top priority, she tried to avoid engaging him as much as possible for the moment, content.

She wandered, collecting books that caught her interest; Fiction, history, even philosophy titles made it into her arms, and for the first time in a while, she felt like herself again, natural and thankful that even in her ploy she was allowed moments like this. If this was the result of her charming Ganondorf, she wondered if it was all that unbearable—What if, as things went on, she actually garnered his love? Her treatment wasn't the motive behind any of this, but she couldn't help but be curious as to what may evolve as a result of all this—Would there come a point when she was no longer a prisoner in her own home, and if so, how far away was it?

Her eyes searched through many books, though she already had all the reading material she needed for a while; this allowed her time to think, idly watching Ganondorf as he moved not far behind, searching through titles himself. _If he is even capable of love,_ she thought bitterly, but dismissed it immediately, berating herself; _Of course he is, how could you even doubt that? He is just a man with a role to play, like you and Link. He has lived, loved, and hated, just like anyone else. _She stood, watching him as he flicked through pages, a curious look etched into his features; after a moment, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. _You are no better than he is; No matter how much moral high ground you want to claim in all this, your plan is just as devious, underhanded, and even as cruel as the man you despise._

Her brows furrowed with some sadness as she watched him; He was getting revenge for his people, avenging them, letting his anger sear the world like a desert wind—He was just like her, in that sense. She wanted to stop him, defeat him, kill him or imprison him for the crimes against her people and her land, and she was acting upon this desire, helping it come to pass in any way she could; Yet, many crimes against his impoverished people went unchallenged, unaccounted for… And now they were gone, those that fled scattered across neighboring lands and those that stayed executed because of his actions—Their temple converted into a prison to serve as a warning to all those that may oppose the Hyrulian throne, above all other reasons, she knew deep down that this was the harsh truth.

His actions were simply a desperate bid for respect, in the only manner he could achieve it… By becoming a threat. She grimaced, remembering that the Gerudo played an integral part in unifying Hyrule during the Civil war; _What do they have to show for it now?_ She thought, a deep regret for the past taking hold of her heart. She had read well of the first cycle, how the Hero of Time had fought against him, both as a child and a man; From her understanding, Hyrule had been separated into two halves in that battle—One in which he ruled Hyrule with a twisted, selfish heart for seven years, leaving his people behind, and this Hyrule, in which he had been revealed, subdued, and imprisoned, sentenced to execution, on the basis of intent and prevention.

Yet somehow, the Gods had seen fit to aid him, setting another cycle in motion on the day that was meant to seal his fate—He was saved by Divine Intervention, and the proof was on the back of their very hands. The Princess looked down at her armful of books, her face contorted into one of sorrow and confusion, avoiding the chance he might catch it. She shook her head lightly, "…Is it really that simple…?" She whispered to herself, staring at a leather bound cover, as she heard him start to approach her.

It made sense to her now; Only when Wisdom failed to reconcile Power, did Courage intervene to help Wisdom subdue it, and the cycle would repeat until the correct balance was achieved. Sure, her actions were changing his, that much was obvious, but was she really capable of avoiding this whole fiasco with little more than compassion, understanding and forgiveness? _…I suppose it'll just have to be a race, as to what comes first, _She thought, her crystalline gaze meeting his own, _My swaying him away from this path, or him meeting the Hero's Blade. _

Ganondorf had made his way to stand beside her, peering at the large amount of books she carried, though her sudden change in enthusiasm hadn't gone unnoticed to the Gerudo. "By the looks of things, you have all the books you need for the next month." He chuckled, raising a brow. "I'm starting to think you're going to try something, stocking up like that." She gave him a light smile, patting his arm. "Just as I'm beginning to think you've never seen an avid reader before, Ganondorf. These may last me a week, at best, if you haven't already crowded my schedule with these play-dates of ours." She teased, her smile brightening into a grin. "…Not that I would complain." She said, wrapping her other arm around the books and giving a light shrug.

Ganondorf felt an unusual tug in his stomach, with the smile she was giving him; It was almost like jealousy, mixed with joy—Not only did he like it, he wanted to be the only one she gave it to. It worried him for a moment, though fleeting as it was, he paid it little mind. After all, when she was his wife, he could ensure that she never gave that smile away to others, and with a little conditioning, continued to give it to him. So he simply smiled back, as it came almost naturally with hers.

"That's a relief. I do hate it when you complain." Zelda laughed, tilting her head. "Is that why you let me out of my room, fed me better and allowed me these books?" She gave a fake pout. "…And here I thought you simply enjoyed my company."

Ganondorf had to force himself not to allow a wicked grin onto his face, as he leant closer to her, brushing his fingers along her arm and bringing his face beside hers. "…That, too." He whispered against her ear, warm breath spreading along her neck before he pulled away and turned, taking a few steps before adding over his shoulder, "Come. We'll adjourn to the drawing room for now."

Zelda followed him without hesitation, though beneath her calm exterior, her gut was tied in knots as she tried not to visibly shake—She wasn't sure if it was a reaction to him, or to flirtatious conduct in general, but she knew she'd have to get over it soon; she hoped it was just a remnant of protocol that could be subdued, this would be much easier if that was the case. It was comparable to an arachnophobic person dealing with spiders; it was unavoidable to come across a few, and the only option was to live with the anxiety or conquer the fear. Though, upon reflection of his nature and its causes, Zelda was surprised to find the thought of romantic occurrences with the Dark Lord more bearable than before, if only slightly.

The drawing room held a comfortable atmosphere—Assorted plants decorated the room along with skillfully painted landscapes upon the walls, and high arched windows with red curtains. In the center of it all sat a few lounge chairs, with end tables littered about, and a low table in the center with a silver tea set. Ganondorf strode across the room with a casual gait, taking a seat with a relaxed sigh as Zelda placed her pile of books beside the tea set.

She sat beside him, swiveling to lean against the arm of the lounge, looking around at the paintings—She hadn't been here since the last ball her father held, it felt so long ago, now. "…You didn't collect any books yourself?" She asked him, tucking an ankle beneath her other leg.

The Gerudo rested his elbows upon his knees, glancing up at her with a cocked brow. "No, I do not have the time for it." He said simply, "I still have a few books to finish, though it may be a while before I do; My spare moments are much better spent on other things." He smirked, giving her an appraising look; Baiting a response.

Zelda smiled, folding her hands in her lap; As far as she was concerned, she'd outdone herself with him. "…I'm sure it will prove a refreshing decision." She offered, tilting her head with a coy glance as he stood, wandering over to a decanter with an amber liquid inside. He chuckled, fetching a tumbler and pouring himself a glass.

"I would certainly hope so… I think I've stumbled upon a very enticing venture."He shot her a curious look over his shoulder. "…I don't suppose you have a taste for brandy?" Zelda shook her head lightly, obviously pleased with herself. "No, not really. But I will try a glass anyway, if only for the sake of exploring new things." She smirked, inclining her head.

Secretly, she marveled at how a single conversation could be divided into two entirely different ones; The undertones being shared were definitely a good step, and with the indirect nature of this flirtation, she felt much more at ease yet still achieved the desired effects.

Ganondorf swiftly returned to her side, placing the drinks on the table; She really was on her game, picking up on even slight hints, and responding accordingly—Were he not on to her little rouse, he was sure he would have fallen for it, eventually. They wouldn't be moving at the same pace they were now, but she was definitely capable—_Maybe that whole 'Woman in the shell of a Princess' speech held more water than I thought; She's an adept liar, with a near flawless façade. I'm almost proud, _he thought, watching her wrap her slender fingers around the glass and bring it to her lips. After all, he knew the level of skill and self control it took to pull off such a thing. He smirked, chuckling as she tried to get used to the drink—She had a soft frown, with a grimace, and looked taken aback, patting lightly at her collar bone after the first sip. It was adorable, in an odd sort of way; endearing.

Zelda cleared her throat, trying to stifle the burn from the alcohol—It was a very sweet taste, and almost hard upon her palette; She'd only had it once or twice before, and only wine otherwise, with food. "A bit of an acquired taste, isn't it?" She laughed, fanning her face as a light flush overcame her, setting the tumbler down.

The Gerudo couldn't help his grin, "You'd never expect some things of being enjoyable, and yet, after a while you find you were mistaken and indulge whenever possible." He smiled at her from behind the rim of his glass, taking a long draught, and giving a tasteful click of his tongue. _We're setting a good pace, now,_ He thought, eager to continue; _At this rate, she'll have no excuse to deny me…And then we shall see how desperate our Princess has become. _He could hardly wait—A prisoner willing to break themselves, it was simply remarkable.

Pushing a stray lock of hair over her shoulder, Zelda could sense that this was a good opportunity to officially start something, but she almost felt ill doing so. Swallowing her discomfort, a light sigh passed her lips as her eyes rose to his, delicate features set and resolute in purpose. "…Yes, I am finding that to be true, especially of our time together." She hesitated only a second, her heart sinking with every word. "It throws into sharp relief that which I have failed to experience… And that is a suitor whom I enjoy. Unlikely as it may seem, I would like you… to be that suitor, circumstances aside." She reached for the tumbler once more, holding it her hands to feel grounded to something; The smirk tugging at his lips was all to sinister for her liking. Still she watched him, forcing a light, hopeful smile onto her face to seem genuine.

With a light tilt of his head, Ganondorf tried with all his might not to laugh, covering it by simply allowing his grin to show through. He succeeded though, in converting it to a charmed sort of look, as if her statement were unexpected, or hoped for. "I am glad you've broached the subject…" He said suavely, resting an arm on the back of the lounge as he leaned closer, "…Somehow, I felt it would seem an awkward suggestion, coming from me."

A low laugh rumbled in his throat, as he brought his hand to her face, brushing his fingers lightly upon her cheek. Zelda did well not to flinch and shy away from his touch, instead her small smile grew—Everything was going according to plan. "Not at all…" She offered reassuringly, "I had worried that you might think it too soon, or not be interested. It is a rather… odd way to begin a relationship, captor and captive." But Zelda's breath hitched as he leant even closer, mere inches from her nose, eyes unavoidably locked on her own.

He held a look that could be taken as tender, were it not laced with intent. "But…" he purred, confident, "…In that very sense, how am I to know you are not simply trying to achieve better treatment, through endearing yourself to me?" He lifted a brow, waiting, and her heart raced; _Have I been caught?_ She thought frantically, licking her lips and taking a short breath.

"…I suppose you can't. You'll just… Have to follow your instincts…" She spoke as if it were a simple truth, and willed her stomach to settle, churning as it was; She knew all to well what was about to happen, tilting her head back to accommodate him.

The Gerudo saw the invitation, and didn't waste a moment, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to hers. There was a guilty pleasure to it, the feeling of her soft flesh under his fingers as they slid up her arm—she was fresh and unspoiled, and his for the taking. He felt her lips part slightly against his, her hands settled upon his chest and pulled her closer, enjoying the sweet taste.

Zelda closed her eyes as she felt his mouth brushing against hers, trying to imagine it was anybody else—Somehow, it was inescapable, an earthy spice mixed upon the taste of brandy… exotic, and his. Her fingers slid over the fabric of his tunic, though the sensation couldn't be outdone, especially when his tongue passed between her lips and she had to fight the urge to bite it. A moment passed as he explored her, before slowly the kiss broke, their foreheads touching as an impassive stare was exchanged in its place. Zelda let a shiver run free, undoubtedly felt by his fingers upon her arms, gripping her—She knew he would merely think it was excitement, anyway.

"Ganon…" She whispered breathlessly, her resolve slipping as she searched his eyes helplessly; She felt trapped in them. "Zelda…?" He offered no comfort, no movement, only a name to stir her—_The first crack appears,_ he thought gleefully. She almost felt dizzy, as she forced her body to lean and capture his lips for another brief moment, pulling away slowly. It felt as if something was snapping inside of her, when a smile resumed its place upon her features.

"…Nothing." A shaky hand lifted to take her glass, bringing it to her lips and drain it of its contents; She stifled the cough that threatened to follow, throat flustered by its warmth. Anything to get his taste out of her mouth… It wasn't nearly as disgusting as she'd expected, and that was far worse than if it had been. Ganondorf traced her jaw line with his fingers, gentle in his touch as he offered the most charming smile he could manage.

"…You do have a taste for brandy, it seems." He teased, nodding toward the empty tumbler as she put it down. She wrapped her fingers around his hand, bringing it away from her face and holding it with a light smile."Isn't that curious, how it grew on me so quickly…"

The Gerudo inclined his head, peering over at the windows for a moment before moving to stand. "You may remain here until dinner, if you wish. One of my men will escort you, as usual. Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to…" He smirked, "…You're a very distracting woman." He chuckled, turning to walk away with a leisurely gait. As he opened the door, he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Dinner will be served in my quarters tonight. Until then, Zelda…"

Not a moment after the door closed shut, the Princess let out a heavy sigh, tucking her knees to her chest as her shoes were thrown carelessly to the floor. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wanting to just disappear as dread washed over her. "Fantastic…"


	7. Duet of Lies

**A/N: Hello all. Just a note to say that there is rather graphic scenes in the latter half of this chapter; some may find it a little…. Intense to read. So, for those of you cautious about such material, be aware, and for those of you who have been following the story, waiting eagerly for a naughty thrill, press onward, my duckies.**

The sound of metal shifting echoed off the walls, between the heavy boot-falls of an Iron Knuckle, lending an audible count to the seconds as the journey was both agonizing and slow. Zelda had been fetched from the drawing room, where she'd spent the better part of the day engrossing herself in her books—The taste of her captor haunting her lips still, much as she tried to ignore it.

She walked down the halls with unfocussed eyes, drifting in and out of her own inner monologue, near delirium as her situation seemed to be getting the better of her. Her heeled shoes swung lightly at her side, held by lazy fingers; Had she worn them, she would certainly have tripped as her legs felt weak beneath her. She didn't even know how she'd be able to manage eating, and she was surprised she hadn't been violently sick; every step towards Ganondorf's chambers was like a nail in her own coffin.

_Dinner will be served in my quarters tonight_, she could feel the words burning in her ears—Such unthinkably inappropriate situations that man put her in, sometimes… Barging in on her undressed, kissing her, touching her face… And now, requesting her company in his personal chambers.

His lack of decorum was both excruciating and shocking, and the Princess felt so out of place and caught unawares; no man had ever dared to treat her in this manner, it was foreign and she found herself increasingly unprepared. She sighed as she caught sight of herself while passing a suit of armour, in her distressed state, hair undone, barefoot, clothes askew and crownless. She looked broken, stripped of everything, even dignity; Hyrule's scrapped Princess, who had only one last precious thing of her own—Not given by Gods, not bestowed upon her. It was her gift to give, only once, and she knew already that he planned to take it, just as he had everything else. Her plans, she thought with a grimace, were turning against her the longer her Hero took, and at this rate she was going to break before Hyrule was saved.

The pair stopped in front of the ornate doors, as Zelda came back to reality long enough to raise her eyes and realize that she had reached her destination, the Iron Knuckle already turning to leave after a short bow. She gagged, fury and anguish bubbling beneath her pale skin, as her hand lifted to cover her quivering lip; She knew these doors.

These were once the doors of her father's personal chambers. _I should have known_, she thought bitterly, _he would take the King's private bedchamber as his rooms… He does, after all, think himself the King._ She took an extra moment to steel herself, clasping her hands tightly together and reigning in her personal turmoil, before raising a gloved hand to knock sharply. Her ears twitched as she heard movement inside, readying a faint smile for pleasantries sake as the door creaked open, revealing the object of her dread.

Ganondorf stood smug, leaning a muscled forearm against the frame—To Zelda's chagrin, also blocking the entrance and forcing immediate interaction. He grinned down at her, a light cotton shirt of Gerudo make— with red and blue designs covering his chest— in place of the normal tunic, his hair freed and falling in tussled waves over his shoulders, crooked from the tight curls. His golden gaze held a wild gleam that his casual appearance only seemed to enhance, and Zelda's hands found themselves clasped once again.

The Dark Lord's eyes flickered about behind her, before locking with her own. "Good evening, Zelda." He offered, shifting to allow her entrance. "Come. It's getting cold, we'll sit by the fire to warm you." His canines showed in his smile, as his hand rose to usher her in.

Zelda tucked a blonde lock behind her ear as she moved past him, "Yes, that sounds lovely… It is rather odd for me to be without a fire, recently, I'm so used to them." She almost felt relieved by the rush of warmth she felt as she broke eye contact with him—It was from the fire, but even without it, the sensation may well have been the same.

A few steps in, and her attention to detail kicked in. She'd never been in her father's quarters, of course she hadn't, but the décor was not that of the King's tastes; it was perverted, soiled, and now undoubtedly belonged to Ganondorf. She surmised that this was simply another subtle assault to her pride, as she noted anything that seemed out of place—She loved this room as much as she hated it, each artifact and decoration, even the furniture, was as brilliant to her as it was insulting. Worse than that though was the scent of incense burning, a spiced smell, earthy and rich, to match his and the taste that still stained her lips.

A heavy hand settled upon her shoulder, as a deep voice broke her away from her thoughts, "…You seem distant. Something unsettling you?"

Her fingers flexed, as she formed her response carefully. "No, I'm quite alright. Just taken with the atmosphere… It is rare that one is given such a fresh glimpse of another culture, especially in their own home." She turned to look at him, forcing a small smile. It was a feat that she managed to hide her offence, her tone even, "I suppose you could say it is refreshing, as if I'm discovering new rooms, though I've lived here all my life."

Ganondorf studied her face a moment, before nodding with a satisfied, though distracted look, "I'd imagine it must be difficult to see divergence of Hyrule's many lifestyles, when your world is safely contained within castle walls. A pity, really… Not all the majesty of the Earth can be found in books." A silence fell between them for a moment as the Dark Lord's gaze roamed the room as if he too were seeing it with fresh eyes.

Zelda couldn't help herself as her face softened, watching him; she knew that look, it was akin to her own when she'd broken free in her librarian escapade. She moved with grace, almost unconsciously toward one of the armchairs, running a glove over the material as her voice escaped her. "…I would think it more of a pity, to know such majesty and see it resigned only to books." It was a long shot, she knew, to speak about his culture—to even bring up their history usually left them in an argument—but if it would settle her, and perhaps delay an inappropriate encounter, she was willing to risk it. Of course, that didn't mean she was going to be reckless about it, and ruin her work thus far; _caught between a rock and a hard place,_ she supposed, settling into the seat and watching the idle flicker of the fire as her shoes dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

Ganondorf had stopped any movement at her words, as if they'd frozen him in place. Her saving grace lay in their context, as those words could well have been an icy barb, yet she delivered them in a warm and almost sympathetic fashion. He stared at her from the corner of his eye, tongue darting behind his teeth, trying to form a response, anything to avoid her realizing that she'd caught him off-guard. The longer he tried, the more a sting settled into his chest—She'd struck a nerve, though neither truly realized it.

When he suddenly moved again, taking a chair beside her, his movements seemed hasty, as if he used it as a substitute for another action. "You are correct." He started with a reserved tone, low and strong. "And in that sense, you will never truly understand such a thing. Remnants left upon pages can be studied to heart's content, but will never relinquish the feel and experience that the soul yearns for, beside it." A high handed response, but perhaps enough to shift the subject, he thought, uncomfortable with the sudden focus upon his losses.

Zelda licked her lips thoughtfully, resolute in pursuing it. "I think I'm receiving quite enough experience, with a living piece of a history that I have always studied feverishly, popping into my life right before my very eyes as if straight from the pages of a dusty old tome." She cocked an eyebrow at the Gerudo, daringly. "I'd say I am coming to understand you quite well, actually." An old surge of pride flowed through her, as her posture straightened, hands folded upon her lap. She did love these moments, where she truly felt in her element. She suppressed a smirk as he gave a tired sounding sigh, taking to leaning upon his elbow, chin betwixt thumb and forefinger.

He shot her an odd look, and something in his eyes melted her confidence a little. The Gerudo's attention turned toward the fire, breaking eye contact with her. "Zelda, it is a sad day when you take your dealings with me, odd as they may have become, as a representation of my people or an understanding of my culture." He shook his head lightly, scoffing to himself in response to whatever else was on his mind. The Princess could only stare at him, trying to decipher what he was thinking about, when his eyes caught hers.

Her surprise was evident upon her features when he began to elaborate, serving her an answer on a silver platter. "You Hylians have always had a tendency to take things at face value. I was a king amongst thieves and harlots, by Hylian opinion, and as such the only ambassador that would be accepted, and even that came with thinly veiled distaste. I doubt my voice would have even been heard by pointed ears at all, were I not groomed to be considered civil by your standards." He bit out the words bitterly, a sneer of disgust taking his lip.

Zelda could see the memories flash behind his eyes, and her breath grew shallow with the restraint in his voice. She'd be lying to herself to say she wasn't taken aback, even knowing more than she let on; her idle hands now moving by themselves to pluck at her dress, twisting the fabric lightly in her fingers as he continued.

"I was taught to speak Hylian; I learnt and conditioned myself to your mannerisms, gestures, even your humour. I had to change my entire personality to that of a Hylian to even step foot within the Castle Town." He scowled, staring down the dim flames. "I spent a sizable amount of my life little more Gerudo than you are, thanks to the prejudices of your ancestors. Now, I am the only one remaining." He growled out those last words, as Zelda considered him silently, studying his strong profile.

She cleared her throat softly, nervous to speak. "That may be the case…" She started, reaching out a hand to rest upon his forearm, "But I enjoy you for what you are, so different than myself or what I know to be familiar. You have an exotic intrigue that captures me, much as my love of history and poetry have in the past; I stumble upon them and need to know more." She sighed, retracting her arm when she realized it had little effect in settling his agitation, and took a more direct tact—which also served to let off some steam, ironically.

"When I met you, I thought you were rude, cruel, and tenacious, with a vicious temper and enough bloodlust to match a hungry beast. I find it difficult to read your body language, as well, so that makes you seem exotic and unpredictable to me." She chuckled, "You haven't changed much since then, either. But I suppose I've grown used to it enough to focus on what makes you interesting to me, rather than intimidating." She couldn't help the smile that took her lips at the look he shot her; an odd mixture of annoyance, shock and amusement.

When the expression settled, a smug half smile took its place. "That's very bold, Zelda." He rumbled, a hint of laughter behind his voice as he lifted a brow towards her, shifting to face her more.

The Princess simply laughed, waving a hand in front of her as if to dismiss his comment. "Honesty and good communication is the key to strong, healthy relationships, is it not?" she chimed with some mirth.

Ganondorf couldn't help the suspicious snicker that passed his lips at the notion, as he stood to make his way over to a cabinet. Fetching a couple of glasses, he pulled a bottle from an ice bucket, inspecting it before pouring. "Provided it isn't a relationship of convenience, I suppose." He shot her a playful look, but the words quickly prickled Zelda's skin with hidden meaning.

She watched him curiously as he approached, handing her a glass, "…Oh, well… Yes, I suppose convenience is rather fashionable these days. All the younger people are indulging in it." She shot back with a humourous lilt. A soft clink of glass rang out between them, as Ganondorf reclaimed his seat, reclining with some relief that the subject had drifted off positively.

His fingers twitched upon the glass as he swirled the liquid inside, deciding rather quickly that he didn't like the feelings that she stirred when talking with him about such things. He had a dangerous suspicion that if he allowed it, she may well be able to sooth some of his older wounds, but he could never let that come to pass. His rage and pride were the fire that kept him alive, the reason he breathed—He lived for revenge, for vengeance and satisfaction. His people were gone, and only he remained; The moment he gave in was the moment his people truly died, and as long as he lived and fought, in a sense, so did they. He was going to burn the glorious memory of his people into Hyrule's very soil, take the land they deserved, and deliver punishment for what they had endured. He wasn't going to let the fires of his malice, his fuel, be doused by the sympathies and soothing words of a Hylian Princess, of all things, too little too late.

Zelda had settled some, enjoying the warmth of her liquor and the fire—Perhaps her paranoia was somewhat unfounded, for the moment. Content as a comfortable silence passed between them, she couldn't help but turn over his little spiel in her head, thinking back to the time and wondering, truly, what would've transgressed.

The Gerudo were not from Hyrule Proper at all, but she recalled her country was not divided into provinces at the time, though the fiefdoms did exist with contested borders. The Gerudo tribe had inched closer to the fields around the time the races were united, under the Hylian King Juliard Ferrus Hyrule with the aid of his advisor and another leader—Namely, a Shiekan elder and the Gerudo King, who was sitting beside her. It was then that borders had been established for each race, and their leaders swore fealty to the Hyrulian throne. Ganondorf had taken his place as an advisor to the King twelve years later, when the Shiekan elder had passed away, and only a short four years before he was put on trial for conspiracy, high treason, and other crimes. Despite this, however, she was aware of the fact that the Gerudo borders had been set in the unification as well, preventing further advancement and restricting them to the desert.

The Princess quietly gazed upon the object of her thoughts, sipping lightly from her glass; _It is little wonder he is so bitter, _she acknowledged, _given that he has a major hand in Hyrule's prosperity, though was shared none of it himself_. A fingernail rapped idly on the glass as the doors opened, letting through several monstrous servants who were to set a small table across the room. She watched them, sifting though the Gerudo's motives mentally. _Why help build something he is to destroy?_ But as the scent of their meal filled the air, she found she already knew the answer—_If he cannot have it, no one shall_.

Her attention had shifted back to the Gerudo man as he stood, and offered her a hand, "Shall we, Zelda?" He smiled. With a nod she rose, allowing him to guide her as a chill ran through her spine; Did this mentality also apply to her? She couldn't help but wonder, as she was seated once more, whether she was unwittingly providing him the edge he needed to topple the Hero, something truly precious to him, that he would fight to the end for—Her.

The Dark Lord set his glass down, peering at her from over the small table. This was their first meal together that lacked any real formality, though he could easily tell she was far from relaxed. He wasn't about to comfort her though, from what his intentions were she had every right to be nervous, the little actress; Besides which, he quite liked seeing her squirm, or rather, try not to. _Perhaps I should be open with her more often, if it has this effect_, he snickered in his mind.

He also noted the small amount of food she had gathered onto her plate, clearing his throat to inquire. "…Now I am convinced there is something wrong. You are hardly eating anything." He quirked a brow and gave her a concerned look.

She almost jumped, torn from her thoughts, but was quick to recover. "Oh… I apologize; I suppose I'm just a little under the weather today…" She took a sip of her drink and steadied herself, realizing that this was a feeble sounding excuse. "My dream rather unsettled me and I've been out of sorts since, as you've probably noticed, by the state I'm in…" She chuckled weakly, gesturing to her lopsided attire.

Ganondorf gave an understanding nod, though continued to study her, his gaze unnerving the Princess with its scrutiny."Yes… Out of sorts…" He mused, seeming hesitant to continue.

Zelda waited expectantly, but the Gerudo merely resumed his meal, causing her some concern. After a minute or so, it got the best of her, and she pushed her plate aside, finished with it. "Ganondorf, don't take that the wrong way… I meant what I said to you earlier." She offered, guessing as to what was on his mind. She watched him as he paused a moment, also setting his unfinished plate aside before fixing her with an odd look.

"Zelda, I don't want to doubt that, but this is a delicate situation we're in…" He plucked his glass from the table and stared at it. "…If you aren't in the right mind today, then how am I to truly know it won't change tomorrow? I can be very patient, but that is only when I know such investments will pay off." He took a long breath, looking thoughtful, and clucked his tongue. "Even then, how am I to trust anything you say at all? We are, by all rights, enemies, though I have shown you great clemency despite our situation. I would not like to find, down the line, that my affections for you were simply manipulated."

Golden eyes locked with her own, cornering her, as Zelda's heart began to quicken. He was beginning to catch on. _No! I'm losing him! Say something! _Zelda's mind was screaming at her as she tried to keep the panic from her face. "Of course not…!" She said quickly, if a bit too defensively. She closed her eyes for a second, forming the words. "…Ganondorf, I am well aware of who we are, and how difficult this may become in the future. But I would not suggest our coupling unless I was genuine in what I felt; what reason would I have to fabricate such a thing? Naturally, I would be expected to despise you, and any union of ours would never be accepted. Surely, I wouldn't be willing to face and struggle with the damning judgments that will come of this, if it was all some sick game, would I?" She was pleased with how that sounded, mentally congratulating herself as the Dark Lord's expression seemed to soften; it still held a harshness to it, but Zelda knew now that it always did.

She smiled gently at him, trying to give the reassurance he obviously needed—In the back of her mind, it both amused and saddened her to think that he may be afraid of rejection. Her stomach almost flipped when she heard his chair legs scrape across the stone, only for him to get up and walk toward a window, staring out at the grey sky with his back to her.

"Zelda… You claim to understand me quite well…" His voice was calm, drifting upon the warm air to reach her ears as a light rumble. "Do you honestly think that I would not play such a 'sick game' were I in your position, being that I could probably slip past my enemy's defenses and gain an intimate knowledge of them… Perhaps even their trust… And use it against them, at the opportune moment?"

A thick and foreboding silence fell, and the Princess knew she had no choice but to answer, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass nervously. "…No. I am sure you would, given the chance." She sighed, feeling utterly defeated. A minute must've passed before she stood, the noise of her chair harsh upon the atmosphere, as she padded silently over to stand at his side. She inclined her head to look at him, though he continued to study the heavens, bleak as they were.

With a long breath, she slowly began to remove her gloves, placing the silken garments on the window sill without gaining so much as a glance from him—The cold emanating from the window pricked at her skin, though she knew he would notice. She had once read a passage in a book about the Gerudo culture, in which it stated that to bear one's wrists was to show vulnerability, and was a very intimate act of trust, one she knew would not be lost on him. "But on the other side of this, you have been given that chance, just as much as I. You could easily betray _my _affections, fully intent on breaking my heart and will. I choose to give you the benefit of the doubt, however, because I've come to know and care for you, just as I can only hope you've done the same." She placed a hand upon his large bicep, his arms crossed in front of his chest as they were, and watched their triforce marks flicker at the contact. She'd never lied to anyone like she did to him, and she only hoped he couldn't tell, now that he might be suspicious. "Doubt is a luxury neither of us can afford, if we are to overcome our history."

The Gerudo twitched at the feel of her flesh upon his, rather than silk, noting its intent immediately. A flash of anger shot through his mind, though he was also impressed—using his own customs to manipulate him was a bold move on her part. He glanced down at the offending hand, deciding on a course of action. _What a pretty speech, _the corner of his mouth twitched with sarcasm, unseen, _For somebody who just got caught, she certainly is persistent, isn't she? Well, if she wants to play the culture card, I'll take my invitation_.

He shifted, capturing her small hand in his, and turning to look upon her with a faint smile. "It is reassuring to know your opinions on the matter…" He raised the bare fingers to his lips, brushing against them and seeing relief dance in her eyes. "All things happen for a reason. Perhaps this is our destiny; together." His free hand snaked about her waist, drawing her closer, with each word, into his embrace. Zelda smiled up at him, playing along as he knew she would, "Perhaps it is, indeed." She almost looked smug, like a child getting her way, as her hands settled on his chest with her head tilted back to look up at him.

The Gerudo couldn't hide his smirk as he dipped his head, tasting her lips delicately as she shifted against him, standing on bare toes to allow extra height. What a sweet moment this was, a perfect duet of lies. No sooner did their lips part, did he lift her—with a surprised yelp—into his arms, so that her legs fell either side of his torso as he looked up at her, carrying her toward a small doorway. A heavy boot to the door opened it swiftly, and Zelda, who had actually let loose a surprised giggle, clung to his form and didn't register which room they had entered; not until he had set her playfully down on silken linens, staring up at a wooden canopy, did horror wash through her.

Her smile faded immediately as her crystalline eyes frantically assessed her situation, façade gone for the moment as she lay sprawled upon the large bed— His bed. _No… Please, Nayru, no…Not now, not yet…Don't make me do this, please…_But her pleas went unanswered as the Gerudo removed his shirt, crawling atop her as if his body were a cage.

"G-Ganondorf, what are you doing?" She stuttered, pressing her hands against his chest once more, though now to keep her distance as much as possible. Her gut twisted painfully as he smiled down at her, his hair blocking everything from view, tumbling around her like a waterfall of blood.

"Now, now… I know you must be nervous, but you'll come to enjoy it soon enough… I know you trust me…" He purred, voice rich with lust, lightly brushing her wrist with a finger before bringing the large hand down beside her head. The Princess' breath hitched in her throat as her mistake became evident, cursing herself for her carelessness—She had only considered what the gesture meant among Gerudo women, not realizing that baring her wrists to a man might hold a different connotation. She cringed as he buried his face into her neck, warm breath tickling her ear, "I'm flattered, usually you Hylians are so resolute in marriage, beforehand…" Zelda bit her lip, as tears threatened to blur her vision. "Not only do you give yourself to me now, but you petition it according to my custom… What a wonder you are, Zelda…"

She could feel him grin against her collarbone, as she prayed to any god that may hear her for this to stop, inevitable as she knew it was. She shivered with the well placed kisses as his hand drifted up her side, sliding over her breast to cup her shoulder, pulling the fabric aside to expose more. His lips descended to cover new flesh, as the Princess retreated within herself, closing her eyes to the world. She felt his other hand move beneath her, arching her back over his muscled forearm and pinning her against his torso, his warmth bleeding into her.

_Was it worth it?_ Her own voice betrayed her inside her mind, forcing her outwards again, _Look what you've lowered yourself to_. His body shifted, as deft fingers worked to loosen the strings at her back. _No! He tricked me! This wasn't supposed to happen…_She argued hopelessly, as the hem at her bust-line was slowly pulled away. _None of this was, _the voice said coldly, _You brought it upon yourself. You're not the Hero, and you'll never be able to take his place…_Then her mind was silent, leaving her to face reality alone as a rough hand cupped the supple flesh of her chest. Zelda gasped, not fully realizing her exposure, and writhed beneath the touch of her captor, earning a smirk from him.

"…Like that, do you?" He asked tauntingly, running a thumb over the nipple. A noise escaped her throat that she didn't recognize as her own, though the Gerudo took it as an affirmation, flicking his tongue across the nub cheekily. Zelda swallowed hard, sucking a breath through her teeth—She felt filthy, already; soiled, though it'd only just begun. She stared at the pillows at the end of the bed, refusing to look down as he continued his torturous assault upon her body. She felt him shift again, as even her meager distraction was stolen from her, his hand gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him—She could almost see herself reflected in the sheen of his eyes, dark with delight as they were. It sickened her, as the image flashed through her mind even as he ravaged her mouth with his own. That taste once again coated her tongue as he claimed it, and she doubted it would ever leave her palette afterward, as his hand ran down between the valley of her chest and over the creamy flesh of her stomach.

Ganondorf could feel her twitching beneath the skin, taught and lithe as his fingers ran the length of her midsection, wanting to go lower. How sweet she tasted, like vanilla mixed upon the wine she'd had, and he was bathed in her scent, something of a ripe cherimoya… It suited her, as if she were a forbidden fruit for his picking. Indeed, it seemed she was, falling carelessly from the tree and into his hungry grasp. He broke their kiss to trail down her jawline, drawing deep of her as her tussled hair brushed against his cheek.

He felt her stiffen nervously as his touch drifted beneath the fabric pooled at her hips, and couldn't help but chuckle into her ear. "…You'll love this…" He teased, as a tilt of his wrist slid his finger beneath her undergarment and through the light tangle of modesty to find its purchase. With a gasp, Zelda's body jerked at the unfamiliar touch, her thighs clamping together in fear and aversion. Her brow creased exertion as she tried to ignore it, but she was outclassed, and Ganondorf found no difficulty against her instinctual defense. With each nip to her neck and twitch of his finger, warmth and a shock of desire spread through her like hellfire.

She could feel his sharp canines against her skin, scraping against it with such control yet could easily break the surface and draw blood. The arm beneath her back had shifted, sneaking a hand within reach of her chest once more. It was all growing too much for her to deal with, inexperienced as she was—He was overwhelming her, both physically and mentally, as she found she could no longer stifle the whimpers passing her lips. Lusty chuckles fanned hot against her neck, as the pace of his most intimate caress grew faster, soon tearing a breathy gasp from the tortured Princess.

Zelda bit her lip, as something snapped within her—It was happening, and she wouldn't be stopping it now, so why resist? At the very least, it was pleasurable, and perhaps she could lose herself within the haze enough to lessen the strain of what was being done to her. It couldn't be rape if she allowed it. She was still in control. Everything was going to plan, the Hero was unhindered and would be here soon enough, and this hellish charade would end. And that was the reasoning that slowly, much to the Dark Lord's delight, opened her thighs and beckoned him to explore her entirety. Her head turned look at him, caught in his golden eyes as she grinned a delirious smile.

Ganondorf faltered for only an instant, surprise flashing across his face as he caught sight of the genuine want within her. A dark grin twisted his lips as his touch delved down to her core, slick and inviting; _She must be delusional… or buying her own con,_ He thought with intrigue, running his tongue across his teeth, _Let's see if she has finally cracked. _He pressed against her thigh, letting her feel his desire, tight against the fabric of his pants. "Tell me, Zelda…" He purred, brushing his nose against hers, "Tell me that you love me."

Her eyes flickered against the haze of passion, though they bored into his with a disturbing clarity when her murmured answer came. "I love you… Ganondorf." She was still smiling with those sinful, greedily curved lips, as her hand rose to curl slender fingers into his twisted mane.

_Smile while you can, little Princess,_ He gave her a wicked smirk before dipping his head, and tearing into the flesh at the base of her neck with ease, teeth drawing the crimson liquid onto his tongue.

Zelda yelped as pain shot through her shoulder, slamming her down from her high as she gripped his arms, nails biting into his dark skin. Her eyes shot wide as she felt his tongue lapping at the blood he'd spilled, rivulets staining her hair; _The bastard bit me! _Was the only thing that ran through her mind, in shock. She watched as he pulled away, red smearing his teeth with droplets fresh against his lips as he looked down at her, tongue darting out to swipe the excess greedily. A primal fear shot through her, and she shuddered, feeling like cornered prey as something wild glinted in his eyes.

He drew himself up on his knees, running his gaze over her properly, as if sizing her up—Zelda lifted a shaky hand to her shoulder, feeling the wound as saliva and blood mingled on her fingertips. The Dark Lord's hands gripped the bunched layers of her dress, coiled at her hips, and pressing a hand to her stomach, ripped the garments away with ease. Zelda could only stare at the blood on her fingertips as she felt her body roughly freed from her clothes, and finally, her underwear, digging into her hips harshly as it was torn away.

For a moment, she felt suspended in nothingness as the sight of her blood seemed to warn her of something, a feeling of unease spreading through her belly. His hands settled on her hips, as she looked down to find him at the ready, positioned between her legs, now naked as well. Her brow twitched as she caught sight of his member, and she instantly held a morbid curiosity for the appendage; Zelda had never seen a naked man before, and it seemed so alien to her that it looked juxtaposed to the rest of his sculpted frame.

"Say it again…" The Gerudo rumbled above her, drawing her attention. Zelda stuttered, confused, as her eyes searched his. She could feel the tip of him pressed threateningly to her entrance, and took a shaken breath, bracing herself. "I-I… Love you…?" It came more a question that an answer, as Ganondorf brushed her lips with the lightest kiss.

"I love you too." He whispered, before cruelly thrusting into her unprepared core with a swift, harsh motion. The scream tore from her lips before she could register what had happened, tears stinging her eyes as the Dark Lord hovered merely an inch from her face, enjoying every second. The Princess' body instantly jerked away from his, trying to remove the intrusion, but to no avail, as he pushed even deeper, earning a squelching sound from between her thighs as blood began to seep through their union.

Zelda was distantly aware of a hand running soothingly through her blonde tresses, as she realized the two of them had stopped moving for the moment, a sharp ache throbbing through her lower stomach. She felt as though she'd been stabbed, as she took each ragged breath as lightly as she could to avoid aggravating her condition. Her vision was blurred and unfocussed as all her senses converged to the unpleasant sensation; It was gone. She'd never regain her innocence, and no man would want her again… Not without a lie to cover what had happened, but even then, knowing that she'd been alone with the Dark Lord, doubt would arise as to her purity.

Hot tears ran silently down the sides of her face, trickling into her ears to stifle her hearing, making everything sound distant. Ganondorf shifted slightly, making her cringe with the burning ache that pulsed through her, a cry hitching in her throat—He, however, gave a light, breathy moan, not unlike the ones she had made just minutes before. _How dare he._

Ganondorf was enjoying himself far more than he should've been, he knew that—She was so tight around him, every tiny movement causing a flurry of contractions to massage and squeeze him inside of her… And the very fact that he could feel such ecstasy in causing her so much pain was a beautiful thing, poetic and far sweeter than he had imagined. So fresh was she, that his entrance had almost been painful against the strength of her clenching, and with his large size he had to put quite a lot of force behind it. The feeling of her virtue literally tearing in his wake was sublime, and he felt a surge of disappointment that he'd never be able to do it again… Not with the same majesty and symbolism as this, taking her in her father's own chambers.

He shifted slightly again, drawing out of her slowly, watching her face contort with discomfort as he stroked her silken hair. In this moment, she was truly beautiful to his twisted mind. "The first time is always uncomfortable, Zelda…" He soothed, hiding his glee, "It's best to break the maidenhead quickly, rather than worry it." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, brushing his thumb along her temple. Her legs were trembling on either side of him, and he knew she was in considerable pain, trying hard to keep the smirk from his face as glassed eyes looked up to curse him silently.

He leant down, pressing his lips to the bite mark upon her shoulder, and sucking fresh blood to the surface, earning a whimper of protest from her throat. The metallic tang of her essence on his tongue only served to arouse him further, as the fingers toying with her hair lowered to tease her breast once more. Her fingernails bit dangerously into his biceps, leaving tiny scratches in their wake as her body revolted against him in every way—He could practically taste the rage and anguish bubbling in her blood, as he slowly pushed his length into her again. He relished the strangled noise caught in her throat, her body rigid beneath him, massaging the supple mound within his grasp. Ganondorf ran his tongue over the bite, stinging the wound, as he began to move within her with a light rock of his hips, allowing her ravaged insides to flutter around him autonomously.

Zelda twitched and shuddered at his intrusive movement, gentle as it was for the moment, as a pace was slowly set between them. It was still unwelcome, causing a dull ache as her core convulsed, but gradually, it was becoming tolerable as her body grew used to him. She'd settled into a tense silence, chewing her lip and trying not to let her pained yelps and gasps escape, a confusion growing in her body as it tried to decide which sensations were more powerful; The intruding pain caused by her impalement, or the soft caress of his hand upon her chest mixed with the licks and kisses at the crook of her neck.

As her grip upon his arms eased, his actions grew stronger, accompanied by the odd grunt of pleasure or rumbled sweet nothing. In her fogged mind, she thought with distaste about how romanticized it had been, in the novels of her youth, for the heroine to lose her virginity in a secret tryst with a dark and handsome lover… How foolish that notion seemed to her now.

Each moment passed with an agonizingly slow speed, as her body became more accommodating and allowed for faster thrusts, mingling pain with subtle pleasure until they reached what must've been a normal pace—Ganondorf's hands began to wander, clutching lustfully at her body, from her chest, to her hips and thighs. He took her lips in bruising kisses, his tongue teasing her own and teeth clashing, tearing her icy pink lips and smearing them red where his fangs ripped them. He buried himself deep within her, moaning and grunting as he became fevered; Zelda couldn't help but respond in kind, as the pleasure spread like wildfire under her skin, dulling the pain.

Draping her arms around his neck, she clung to him, allowing her body to move against his, returning his efforts with a soft buck of her hips. With each thrust, she could take him to the hilt, as gasps turned to moans and breathy pleas for more, hitting a special place within her that made her spirit soar. She smirked as he choked out her name, muffling the sound against her neck, tickling the skin as their bodies slammed together in guilty passion. She felt so disconnected now from what was happening, as if it was no longer her body; She was growing unaware that the Dark Lord was having his way with her, or that she was Hyrule's Princess, or even that there was a Hero out there who would be repulsed by all of this as he sought to put the world right.

Something was building inside of her, unlike anything she'd felt before—A pressure, like a glass filled to the brim and about to overflow. Ganondorf growled out her name shamelessly now, and she swore his name had left her lips as well, as something primal had overtaken them, rhythm lost as they chased that building paramount of desire. She had his skin beneath her nails, her thighs were sticky with blood and her shoulder stained with marked flesh, but it all seemed unimportant as that feeling finally took her over; Her body twitched and convulsed, drawing her lover close and gripping him with all her might as tingling warmth flooded her, like waves of water, and let her feel as if she were falling out of her body and into paradise. Within this sensation, she was vaguely aware of Ganondorf's heavy frame giving a few hard jolts against her, undoubtedly spilling his seed within her and soiling her completely, though in this strange, sanguine moment, she found she didn't care.

As she slowly came spiraling back down from her heavenly ascension, her breathing was erratic, and her body felt sticky, with her hair mussed and tangled beneath her—Flecks of blood had dried in her dirty blonde locks—and her lips were swollen and held a light pulse. She could hear her heart beating in her ears and her inner thighs were slick with blood and arousal, her body bare and starting to bruise slightly around her hips. There she lay on the silken sheets of her father's bed, with her most hated enemy. He had crawled off of her to collapse onto his back, looking quite satisfied beside her, relaxing with his eyes closed. She stared at his profile as a crease formed in her delicate brow, not fully believing what had just transpired as the pain in her loins came crawling back to haunt her, as well as the dull throb of her shoulder.

Zelda's crystalline gaze turned toward the canopy, tracing the grain of the wood to occupy her mind; anything to distract it from the empty feeling she was left with. She swore she could taste bile at the back of her throat, bitter upon her tongue, as she felt the bed shift—Ganondorf had moved toward the basin, and was cleaning himself off.

He flicked her a glance, cocking a fiery brow, "There's a clean washcloth here for you to use." He dried himself, getting under the covers for an early night's rest, it seemed. She slowly rose to a sitting position, grimacing at the discomfort, and struggled to the basin, wetting the cloth and running it over her shoulder. She bent, wiping away as much evidence of the whole sordid affair as she could, thoroughly disgusted as bloodied water ran down her legs. A deep sense of shame and despair had settled within her, a few tears breaking free as she dried herself off, unseen by her captor.

She sighed, taking a few wobbly steps, when his rich voice drifted lazily across the bed. "Make yourself comfortable, Zelda. There's little sense in escorting you back to your tower, now." The Princess didn't want to be near him, now that passion's spell had worn off, but didn't have the strength to argue the point. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she silently moved beneath the covers as well, the silk gliding over her skin in false comfort as she settled onto her side.

Zelda lay there for what felt like an eternity playing over the ordeal in her head, as Ganondorf's breathing became shallow and even, and sleep took him peacefully. Tears rolled from her eyes freely, silently, without sadness or anger. She felt empty, forsaken and alone as her goal began to blur before her. Hyrule would be saved… But it seemed, the more time passed, Hyrule's Princess may not be saved along with it.


	8. Wasted Sacrifice

**A/N: Short chapter, yes, I'm sorry… but it is a pivotal point in the story. Once again I've tried to structure this around game events, let me know what you think, because I've actually included the cutscene this time, instead of alluding to it. I'm hoping this will really anchor the story again, and ring true for any TP fans. Anyway, enjoy! **

Shadows curled around his form as it slowly materialized, clinging to dark armour with an ethereal fluidity, before breaking away to shatter into twitching particles as the Dark Lord drew a deep breath. Golden eyes scanned the strange skies, clouds like smoke seeping from the cracks lining this world; The Twilight Realm was as twisted and foreign as it was sorrowfully familiar, smelling faintly of charcoal to match the stale taste of the air. The corner of his mouth twitched in disgust. How he loathed this pitiful place, caught between worlds, like some lonely purgatory for lost souls too damned to stay, but too human to leave; It suited him more than he liked to admit.

The denizens shuffled about, helpless and confused—A plague was upon them, turning even their children into beasts, and yet, they could do little more but try to go about their daily routines and feign normality. Their beady, glowing eyes watched him with worry as he approached the castle, parting a veil of darkness with a flick of his wrist and stepping across the strange moat with ease. Such a strange castle this was, jutting out harshly against the somber atmosphere, to claw at the skies, veins of blue coursing through the walls and pulsating with life-giving light.

Even as the Gerudo stalked through the halls, feeble creatures scurried out of his way and into the shadow, taking refuge in dark nooks as if he were a saintly being of light. It was evident that even he, who had given himself over to sinful despair and demonic magics, was well marked—stained—by the luminosity of his world, a child cherished by the Gods themselves despite his damnable ways. He was a demon among men, and yet, favoured over even the purest Twili; The notion always stirred a smug feeling of pride, and as much as he disliked this place, he couldn't deny that it renewed him, feeding him the anguish of all who dwelled within and bolstering his strength like a nurturing mother.

Large doors parted before him, his steps echoing in the stifling air as he entered the cavernous room, empty and clinical, save for the large throne sitting across the expanse. Draped upon it, lying sidelong across the armrests in some childish daydream, was the faux King, Zant. His fishlike helmet lay carelessly to the side, as the Twili waved his large sleeves in the air, conducting an unseen orchestra and mumbling lyrically to himself.

Eventually the Dark Lord's steps drew Zant's attention, his head cocking to the side to blink in Ganondorf's direction with some surprise. A strangled gasp escaped his stringed lips, as the Twili shot up in the massive seat, smoldering eyes bright with surprise and some panic. "M-master Ganondorf!" He squeaked, before composing himself, and standing to bow as the Gerudo climbed the steps of the dais.

"Zant." He grunted, a satisfied smirk etching itself on his lips as the Twili moved aside, offering the throne. Ganondorf sat, lazily resting his hands upon the arms with a relieved sigh. "It's still warm, you're too kind." He chuckled, gaining an over enthusiastic nod from his minion.

Zant was at a loss for words, it was rare that he was gifted such interaction from his God. "My Lord," He began, steadying himself, "What brings you here so suddenly? What an honour, if only I had known earlier, I would've—"

Ganondorf held up a hand to silence him. "Now, now, Zant, you know that is not necessary. I am here to assess our affairs, nothing more." He leveled a pointed glance at the False king, who fidgeted somewhat under his Lord's scrutiny.

"Oh… Yes, of course, My Lord…" Zant took a slow breath, unsure of how this was going to unfold, and waited for Ganondorf to continue. After a moment, the Dark Lord realized he would have to guide this conversation—Zant often found himself struggling to keep to the point, anyhow.

"Zant, I couldn't help but notice the recede of Twilight around several provinces of late…" His tone was conversational, which only seemed to unnerve the Twili more as he started to stutter an excuse, only to be silenced by a glare. "Now," Ganondorf continued, "Given that the Hero has been aided by Midna, I can understand how the occupation has been beaten back. You hadn't anticipated that turn of events, and I shall not punish you for such a thing…" He scratched his beard idly, lifting a nonchalant brow.

Zant spluttered gratefully, "My Lord, I don't deserve such mercy, You are truly kind-" He paused, as the Gerudo chuckled darkly. "…Mercy only shown, now that the occupation of Twilight is no longer necessary. I no longer need to force the point of my rightful leadership… No, as a twist of fate would have it, the little Princess has thought better of it to be… Diplomatic, instead."

He bit out the word with a cruel grin, though the Twili seemed confused, tilting his head in question. "Master, you mean to say… That she is to marry you?" His eyes narrowed incredulously, as his God nodded a silent ascent. "My Lord, I do not think it is wise to trust such an offer…" Zant said meekly, inclining his head humbly.

"I do not need your counsel to know that, Zant. I'm well aware of her rouse. It is a ploy to regain some control over her country, through marriage, but in doing so, she'll cement my place on the throne, and I am perfectly capable of controlling the situation beyond that." His stern countenance darkened, "…Or am I to understand that you think me a fool, Zant?"

The Twili twitched, squeaking his apology as he realized his mistake. "N-no, Master! Of course not! I am sure she will prove a most entertaining pet…" He smiled anxiously, pressing his tasseled sleeves together in appeal. The Gerudo regarded him with a cold stare, before reclining.

"Good." A moment of tense silence passed, before he clicked his tongue, continuing. "Now… Whether you were aware of Midna's companionship with the Hero or not, I'm sure you understand the threat they may pose if they were to enter this realm. With some coercion, I am confidant that Zelda will prove useful in resolving this resistance, but that will require time. If we allow the boy's efforts to continue unchecked, that time will be cut ever shorter." He paused, studying the Twili's odd face to affirm that he was following.

"And of course, if he and the imp get a foothold here, they will, doubtless, seek to free your people from our… conscription." He rose a hand to his lips, waiting for the Zant to put the pieces together in his gullible mind. A slow nod came, as the False King realized where this was going.

"Yes, My Lord, that would be undesirable…"Zant's fury was thinly veiled—How he despised Midna. She would pay for her underhanded attempts to dethrone him; This was his kingdom, he had _earned_ his place here, acknowledged even by a God. "What will you have me do, Master?" He asked, resolute in completing the task and finding the wily imp to dispose of her, like he should have in the beginning.

Ganondorf smiled at Zant's devotion—Not the brightest dog, but damn it if he wasn't loyal. "Locate the Hero and see that he is incapacitated. Report back to me as to his progress as soon as possible, after you deal with the mirror."

Zant blinked, with confusion growing evident on his face. "The mirror, My Lord?" The Gerudo smirked, "Yes. Destroy it." He almost laughed as the Twili's expression bawked, his mouth opening and closing in sudden self-doubt. "My Lord, I… Forgive me, but the mirror can only be destroyed by the true leader of this realm, I…" He stuttered, flailing his sleeves in a panicked manner.

Ganondorf soon cut him off, "Which I have determined to be you, Zant. Are you not the rightful ruler of this realm, as I am of Hyrule?"

The false King stared at his God with a lost look, fleeting flashes of confidence crossing his face before he nodded forcefully, "Of course I am, My Lord!"

Ganondorf chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Than do as I command, and see the mirror is destroyed. Prove to me that my investment in you was not wasted."

A twisted grin took Zant's stringed lips, as he gave a definitive bow. "My Lord!" He saluted, before overzealously vanishing with an odd spinning motion. The Gerudo couldn't help but shake his head with a bemused sigh; He doubted he'd ever see the day that Zant didn't surprise him with some sort of oddity. Content for the moment to remain seated, he resolved to stay and see that this realm's defenses were prepared; in the likely event that Zant overlooked something.

For Zelda, the day had passed slowly, and despite her usual concerns she was relieved that Ganondorf was not present. Over the past week, she had grown quiet and somewhat submissive, losing her optimism to the feeling of doubt creeping up on her. She'd retreated into herself since she had been spoiled, a bereft emptiness clawing at her insides—She'd never been aware of such a part of her before, though it seemed to demand attention now that it was gone.

She sat upon her stone window sill, delicate form wrapped protectively in her cloak—In mourning for her people and now, herself—as slender fingers gripped a leather bound tome, the royal crest emblazoned in gold on the cover. She had read it so many times… there was no point in even opening it, anymore. She new every page as if the words were inscribed into her fragile heart. But, even in the beginning, this book had proved her only comfort, and she held it tightly; a dear friend it was, especially now.

She sighed, looking upon it sadly as her fingers caressed the cover—It held accounts of Heroes, and made her feel as if just holding it provided a connection, a lifeline, to her own. Her fire remained unlit, and had for three days, as she ate as little as possible, almost as if, subconsciously, willing herself to fall ill. And perhaps catching pneumonia and dying peacefully in her sleep wasn't such a repulsive idea, she'd admit, though she knew Ganondorf would heal her before she could succumb. She grimaced at herself; _Even in misery, he's taken over all my thoughts_. As another sigh escaped her lips, her head lolled to rest against the glass, the chill seeping through her the fabric of her cloak.

She wished she could just go back and undo all of it, instead of plowing on recklessly and allowing herself to be stripped clean of all she had. The only reason she still held her Triforce piece was because Ganondorf couldn't remove it without the presence of the third—Perhaps she should've made more use of it, instead of rashly trying to help. Even after everything she'd been through, the sky was no less grey than it had been a month ago, the air was still cold, and monsters still roamed the land—She hadn't managed to persuade the Dark Lord into ceasing his assault, even after giving him every reason to.

Setting her book down lightly, she stood, peering down at the city below. Even in the dim light, she could see some sort of unrest taking hold of the townspeople below, as untrained guards rushed about, panicked. Her brows furrowed with concern, crystalline gaze turning to the heavens; _Don't tell me those awful beasts have returned!_ But as she searched for the tell tale portal, she found none, her face softening with some relief. Something wasn't right, she was certain, but at least it was not to the detriment of her people, fussing though they might be. Her ears twitched as she heard movement in the stairwell, listening intently and praying that it wasn't Ganondorf coming to request her company.

She moved toward her desk, taking the book with her and putting it back into its draw, just in case, and waited. Her heart leapt to life with a hopeful flutter, though, as instead of heavy footsteps, she recognized the patter of paws upon stone. She smiled lightly to herself; No wonder the guards below were anxious, Link's wolf form was rather threatening. It was short lived, however, as pained gasps accompanied the Hero's arrival. Turning slowly, her worry was confirmed—something was very wrong indeed.

Link hadn't noticed her, it seemed, and in desperation had placed Midna on the ground; The imp was blue and pale, struggling to breathe, feebly curled upon the stone floor. The Wolf circled her protectively, steel blue eyes desperate and worried. Zelda stepped forward, making herself known, and crouched to brush the poor Twili's cheek. _Midna, _she thought with sympathy, _what has this world done to us? _

The imp shifted at her touch, taking a ragged breath to speak. "Please… Please tell me… How do we break the curse on this one?"

The Princess could only blink in surprise; The usually haughty Twili had always been somewhat egocentric, and yet here she lay, in such a state, seeking help not for herself, but Link. Zelda clasped her tiny hand, trying to give some comfort, as the Hero watched forlornly, lowering his head in some guilt. "This… Is the one…" Midna coughed, shivering, "You need him… to save your world! That's why, Princess… You must help Link…"

…_And not you, _The Princess thought, finishing the broken sentence. She glanced up at the bestial Hero once more, who's only concern seemed to be Twili's welfare—It seemed as if he felt, whatever had happened, was his fault. Ganondorf must've had something to do with this; Zelda knew it was no coincidence, that the first time he'd left the castle in weeks, was the day that something like this would happen. In that sense, the Princess felt that she was partly to blame—She hadn't protested when he'd mentioned that he was taking his leave for the day, selfishly ignoring the risks to take some time to herself.

She brought a gloved hand to hover over Link's form, sensing for any magical anomaly and how to counteract it, her Triforce piece shimmering to life. Her brows furrowed with frustration and guilt when what she found confirmed her suspicions, letting out a silent sigh before softly offering explanation. "What binds him is a different power than what transformed him when he first passed the curtain of Twilight. It is an evil power." She paused, watching Midna as a cough wracked her small frame; It was too strong for her to undo, and she knew that only one thing would banish such a curse from the Hero. But she feared, in this form, he may not find it without help—And Midna was fading fast.

"Our world is one of balance..." She started, reflecting also upon her own struggles, "Just as there is light to chase away darkness, so, too, is there benevolence to banish evil." The Hero caught her gaze, hope and determination still present in his wild eyes, ears twitching as he took in every word. Zelda addressed him with a firm tone, "Head for the Sacred Grove that lies deep within the lands guarded by the spirit Faron. There you will find the blade of evil's bane that was crafted by the wisdom of the ancient sages… The Master Sword." Just the title passing her lips was enough to make her feel redeemed somehow, like her efforts had been worth it, despite everything.

"The Master Sword is a sacred blade that evil may never touch. Evil cloaks you like a dark veil, and that blade is the only thing that can cleave it." Link looked at her, resolute to follow the instruction as best he could and in that moment, Zelda knew her country would be safe. There was no question; Link would be successful, she could already see it in his eyes. "Link… Hero sent by the Goddesses…" She mused, letting the notion comfort her, even as Midna's quivering form began to still. She raised her hand, showing the mark glowing upon her hand as it resonated with his presence. "Like you, I have been granted special powers by the Godesses…" She said, offering some reassurance, hoping the simple gesture would be enough.

The Twili imp, seeing where the Princess was going with this, offered her support as well, in her own way. "Fine… Link… You can get to Faron woods… on your own, right?" The Hero inclined his head, and though he lacked human features, Zelda swore she saw a sympathetic smile. "Princess…" Midna called softly, "I have one last request…" The Twili turned her once bright eyes toward the cloaked Princess, her voice weak. "Can you tell him… Where to find the Mirror of Twilight…?"

Zelda's eyes shot wide as the pieces fell together—Midna was not a denizen who had fleed her realm, she was the fallen Princess, overthrown by Zant. _Of course…_She thought, _Why did I not see it sooner?_ Without Midna's guidance in dealing with the Twilight, it was likely Link would be caught unawares… it also explained Ganondorf's confidence; Chances were, they were not even aware of his hand in all of this. Now that she could finally consider all sides, Zelda realized what she had to do if they were to succeed—And she was content to do so.

She smiled softly behind the scarf tucked in the neck of her cloak. "Midna… I believe I understand now just who and what you are… Despite your mortal injuries, you act in our stead…" She thought about her history with Ganondorf, alone in the knowledge that he was behind this, and why. "These dark times are a result of our deeds, yet it is you who have reaped the penalty." She had so many regrets, of her own and her ancestors… perhaps now, the past might finally be rectified, even if Ganondorf's peace was found in death—At least he might be with his people once more. "Accept this now, Midna. I pass it to you…"

The Princess' hands rose, clasping Midna's small hand as her form began to glow, her face serene with acceptance and concentration. The Twili's listless eyes shifted to her with some confusion, until a warm sensation tingled up her arm, flooding her being with strength. Midna knew now what was happening—Zelda was passing on her piece of Wisdom, converting her own body into the energy the imp needed to heal and recover. Her red eyes widened with panic, shocked at such a rash action, as her tiny form began to levitate.

"No! Link! Stop her!" She shrieked, desperately trying to stop Zelda's sacrifice. The Hylian Princess looked up at her, a faint smile on her icy pink lips—If only they knew what she had done, they would understand… _Be safe, Link, Midna_. She could feel her spirit slipping free of its mortal coil, and with a bright final shimmer, her body vanished, used to nourish and revive the Twili as Zelda's world faded to black.

Midna's body descended to the floor, the imp's bright eyes unable to do anything but stare at the spot where Zelda had been. Wisdom pulsed within her like a heart, renewing her, as the gravity of the situation took hold. "We go back, Link." She announced, turning her head to the Lupine Hero. "Back to Faron woods." A primal grunt of agreement was given, as the Twili took up her odd mount once more. They left without another word, the memory of Zelda's sacrifice fresh, fueling them with newfound purpose.

Within the Twilight Realm, floating amongst a river of smokey clouds was Ganondorf, drawing deep of the power the realm had to offer. It coursed through his veins, fresh, bitter… His for the taking, an offering from a pitiful people to a man, who would be their God. He had seen to the sources of the strange light in this world, the Orbs of Sol, and locked them away in defensible positions, as Zant had failed to do such. He'd expected to find something worth improving, but the False King's lack of concern for protecting such valuable assets from being used against him was astounding. It was little wonder the self-absorbed Twili had been overlooked for the throne—He was an idiot, unfit to rule an anthill.

But his reverie was disturbed, suddenly, when an odd jolt ran through him, as if his piece of the Holy Relic had rebelled against him. He stared down at his hand, in offense, as the mark flickered suspiciously. _Zelda…_He growled, forming a fist. _What the hell has that blasted nuisance of a woman done now!_ He calmed himself, reaching out for her mentally, searching. He scowled deeply, rage burning beneath his skin untamed as he found nothing but a flicker of spiritual energy, faint and residual in her tower. His whole body trembled as his roar rang out into the sorrowful realm, tearing himself out of the shadow world and back into the light, rending the space between as he vanished, rematerializing in a flurry of particles in Zelda's room.

Wild eyes scanned the place, all of his senses trying to pinpoint her fleeting spirit. Impatient in his anger, he slammed a heavy hand upon the stone floor, sending out a shockwave of magic as golden patterns spread like wildfire, engulfing everything upon castle grounds. Within seconds, the entire castle was encased in a powerful barrier, letting nothing in or out—Not even Zelda's spirit would escape. He panted heavily, rising slowly with a swagger at the sudden, blinding effort; If the Hero was still in the castle, he'd be found… The scent of the boys' mangy beast form still staining the air. He snorted angrily, ridding his nostrils of the offensive smell.

"Now…" He growled, flexing his hands in and out of fists as he struggled to compose himself, and focus, "What to do about you, my traitorous fiancé?" He cycled through his arsenal of magics, searching his memory for one appropriate in this situation, as he paced the tiny room, fury dissipating into a clinical malice. After a few moments, he stopped, spying her hair brush sitting idly upon the desk—Fresh hair from that morning, too, thanks to her obsessive grooming. He stalked over, greedily picking the hair from it, before snarling at the brush; Something snapped inside, though he wasn't aware of what, and he hurled the brush at the latticed window, shattering the glass. Glaring at the glistening pieces as they scattered over the stone, he clutched the hair tightly and swung his cape in distaste, storming out of the cold, vacant room.

Stalking down the halls of the now impenetrable castle, he barked his orders to any monstrosity he passed, sending out a search for any unwelcome guests, before finally locking himself away in his chambers. At the side of his large bed, he took an ornate dagger from the wall, slicing into his hand and coating the hair in blood before scattering them upon the silk. Crimson droplet fell from the suspended hand, staining the sheets, as dark forces coalesced around his hand, Triforce pulsing with use. For hours, it seemed, he stood there, chanting under his breath as liquid shadow dripped with his blood, slowly building a dark, writhing mass. Piece by piece, it built, until the void silhouette took human form—Female form.

He hissed through his teeth, eyes white with maddening power, as his senses fanned out to find her. Somewhere, confined by the barrier, Zelda's spirit grew aware of itself, as something pulled it; The blackness she had given herself to in peace suddenly began to flash with bright, golden patterns, like hellfire. She could feel anger, and despair, on a level that consumed her in such a primal state as forces threatened to bottle her up, trap her essence with unfamiliar sensations. _This is not the light of the Goddesses…_She was vaguely aware of her transient state, as she felt a great pressure slamming against her, like falling with weights.

_What is this?_ She screamed, as the blackness returned, suddenly calm—She felt heavy, with a pain growing inside of her. She was regaining her mortal senses somehow, and swore she felt silk as the sensation of touch returned, her would be skin burning. As a moment passed, she realized it was her chest, as instinct took her and she coughed, gasping, to breathe. _A heartbeat,_ She thought in horror, as the familiar throb filled her ears, _I have a heartbeat…No…_

Heavy eyelids parted open in the dim candlelit room, unfocussed and blinking, raw. She was alive. As her struggle for air subsided, a renewed gaze scanned the room, soaking in every discernable detail as clear vision returned. Her father's chambers, she lay upon the bed that had broken her. Stinging tears pricked at her eyes, though she couldn't tell if they were caused by her chaotic emotions or the harsh sensation of rebirth. Her newly beating heart almost stopped once more, as her crystalline eyes locked upon the dark figure looming at the end of the bed, staring down at her with a cold, unforgiving glare.

"Hello, Zelda." He whispered, to calm to be trusted. "…My, my, you have some explaining to do…"


	9. Hope's Demise

The Princess coughed against the musty air, harsh upon her lungs and thick with the stench of mildew and decay. Far beneath the halls of her home, the sanctuary that had raised her, protected her in this world, she stood slumped against mossed stone; shackled harshly within a dungeon cell. Her wrists were worn bloody where the steel cut into her skin, raw and tender, caked with flecks of dried blood and droplets of new. Bruised and sore as they were, though, her legs now struggled to keep pressure from them—each were an equal in pain; she could neither sit nor had the strength to stand. Her eyes roamed carelessly, instinctively searching for light, though they found no purchase against the darkness.

She could not even make out the point of her nose in front of her. Her confines were cold and damp, the chill of stone cruel against her bare flesh; He'd left her naked, as she had been since her rebirth. This body was weak and unfed, stomach moaning into the pitch black cavern, unheard as it tortured her with relentless hunger. It was the only sound to keep her company, aside from the odd drip she couldn't place. She was now, more than ever before, a prisoner in her own home.

Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Zelda shifted, trying to find a bearable position. She had no way of telling time here at all, and had long since give up trying to count. She guessed it must've been at least three days, though it could've been longer… maybe even shorter. Pain shot through her wrists as her movements betrayed her, and she growled out in furious despair, "Damn this place! Why, Nayru? Why do you forsake me so?" A sob hitched in her throat, though she let it die. She was stronger than that, she had to be; Link would find the Master Sword, and then it was only a matter of time—She could endure whatever punishment in store with the knowledge that her exposure was vindicated.

She sighed in the darkness, letting her bare back rest against the stone without care for the cold. Ganondorf had barely spoken to her since her betrayal; She couldn't feign innocence when she'd been caught red-handed, her acting days were over. She hadn't hidden it or tried to make excuses… He wouldn't have that satisfaction. No, she'd stayed silent and let what she had done do the talking. She only partially regretted it; _Perhaps if I had at least faked an apology, the bastard might have allowed me food,_ She thought bitterly, as her stomach growled out once more.

Without her piece of Wisdom, too, she was left more vulnerable to her own emotions and whims—Something she couldn't afford around the Dark Lord, least of all now. Left alone with her thoughts, the horror and anger of her situation had dimmed somewhat, and she couldn't help but wonder how well she had succeeded in gaining Ganondorf's genuine affections; This punishment did seem harsh, even by his standards… maybe she had deeply hurt him._ …He deserves it, after all of this. To think, I actually entertained the notion that he'd become pleasant, for a while!_

Somewhere within her, Zelda knew that if he truly had fallen in love with her, this cruelty aside, there was still a good chance she could assuage him. Even after all he'd done, she could still sympathize—and now, properly empathize—with the twisted Gerudo King. But without Wisdom to bring such realizations to the forefront of her mind, she struggled to see it in lieu of her indignation and personal rage.

Zelda's ears twitched desperately when the faint sound of iron creaking floated through the darkness, the distant echo of footsteps haunting the silence. She moved, despite her discomfort, as her breath quickened; She had no idea what he planned to do with her now, but he'd obviously made up his mind. The faint glow of torchlight grew within the stairwell as the boot falls came nearer, louder, before the sight of naked flame seared her vision through the blackness. She squinted, wincing as her eyes dilated painfully, before making out Ganondorf's armoured frame crossing the dank cavern—His piercing eyes seemed bright, streaked red with the reflection of the fire as he held the torch to look at her.

The Princess scowled defiantly at his shadowed features, her weak hands curling into fists at the mere sight of him, and pursed her lips as if to suggest she would still remain silent after all this time. The Gerudo's expression betrayed no emotion, wordlessly scanning her body before setting the torch into a holder upon the wall. He folded his arms as his gaze wandered, noting the damage done, until finally gold locked with blue. He grimaced, "Tsk. Look at the state of you…" Zelda blanched, as if he were an idiot, instantly forgetting her resolve to stay quiet.

"And whom do I have to thank for that?" She spat accusingly. In an instant, a large hand lurched forward to pin her throat, her skull connecting harshly with the stone behind her as she gasped in shock. "…I would start with your precious Hero, for one… Had you not helped him, I may have overlooked your little rendezvous." He growled low, lowering his face within a hair's breadth of hers. "…But ultimately, Zelda, you've no one to blame for your sorry state, but yourself. You'd be wise to start redeeming yourself in any way you can- " Zelda's eyes flickered towards his fangs as his lip curled in a sneer, as she struggled to breathe, his hand clamping dangerously around her throat. "-Wouldn't want to snap that swanlike neck of yours before we've even begun to reconcile. Suffice to say, in my mood, I'm apt to get a little overzealous in your behavioral management." The words hissed through his teeth like venom, his hand slowly uncoiling from her jugular, and Zelda knew better than to take him lightly as she drew a slow breath of relief.

"…What is it that you want from me, Ganondorf? I've nothing left for you to take." She spoke slowly to keep her voice even, staring down the man in front of her with an icy distance.

It was true enough—She could not understand what had possessed the Gerudo to revive her, and even she was aware that her usefulness had come to an end for all parties. The Dark Lord humored her, "I do not seek to take anything from you, Zelda. In fact, if anything, I am being quite generous toward you." The hint of amusement in his rich voice did not show upon his features, as he slowly returned to his original posture.

The Princess did not hide her suspicion or displeasure as he continued. "I merely needed some time to compose my thoughts, and this was a convenient way to teach you a lesson in loyalty, also." His fiery brows rose condescendingly, as his fingers rapped pensively upon his large bicep. "I don't like to see you suffer," He lied, "But you leave me little choice… This is no way for my future wife to behave." In Ganondorf's mind, he was laughing, though his appearance remained impassive—The look of shock on her face was priceless.

Zelda stuttered, "W-wife?" Her mind was reeling; After her duplicity, not only was he keen on continuing their sordid relationship, but he wanted to be wed! How was that even possible? Was he in denial?

The Dark Lord merely shrugged her off. "Well, of course, you suggested it in the first place. Did you not?" He lifted a brow, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Indeed, she had—_Do you intend to take a wife during your reign?_ The words flew through her head like a flaming arrow. Before she could get a word in edgewise, he placed a hand beside her head, whispering menacingly. "…Or do you think so little of me that I would leave you a dishonest woman?"

Zelda's eyes widened slightly, surprised and revolted by everything. "No… Ganondorf, that's…" Her anger built quickly, "How could I ever consider myself an honest woman beside you, even in marriage? How dare you!"

The Gerudo scowled fiercely at her, but the expression immediately softened. "…You are right." He said slowly, his voice calm and considerate. "You have tainted yourself beyond that, now, haven't you? You are just as dishonest, cunning and manipulative as I, using any underhanded advantage you can manage to swing things in your own favour… even your body. We simply deserve each other, don't we?" He gave a self depreciating snicker, drawing away from her once more. "You should count yourself lucky, Zelda… When no other man would have you, I shall, and you will be blessed with a mighty husband and sovereign. My charity toward you is remarkable, truly, I've spoilt you; pampering you with books and gourmet food, forgiving your deceit and treachery, and asking nothing but appreciation in return, yet you fail to give even that."

He shook his head, scoffing. "You Hylians always were pompous, sanctimonious bastards with no sense of gratitude." He paused, peering at her oddly. "…But there's hope for you yet."

The Princess had heard enough, biting the inside of her cheek and focusing her thoughts upon the Hero, coming to deliver her from this vexatious man. "Forgive me, but if you think placing me here to starve is going to conjure gratitude, you're sorely mistaken." She wished she could lash out at him, strike him, anything to wipe the smirk of his face. Clearly, the man was delusional, if he thought she was going to take him up on the offer.

"That is the very reason I have come down here at all. We've yet to set a date for the ceremony, and unfortunately, planning weddings isn't one of my strong suits. I was rather hoping you'd reevaluated your behavior enough to be taken down, so that we could start preparations." He raised a hand to brush her cheek, though Zelda jerked her head away, cringing as the movement caused the shackles to bite into her tender wrists.

"No, Ganondorf. I'll not marry you. Keep me chained if you like, the Hero will be here soon enough; I'm sure I'll manage." She spat resolutely, glaring at the torch. The Gerudo sighed, rubbing his temple in exasperation. "I thought you may say that." He clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand from her face and flexing his fingers idly. A light shimmer crackled across his palm, forming an ornate knife—Zelda's gaze turned with trepidation to the blade, smiling in the flickering light.

"Let's try again, shall we?" He talked as if he were teaching an infant to walk, with a reassuring gleam to his eyes, holding the remorseless piece of metal to the flesh above her breast. "Marry me." The Princess stared at the knife for a moment, steeling her resolve. "…No." No sooner had the sound left her lips, did the Dark Lord viciously tear the blade through her skin, painting a stripe of crimson upon porcelain flesh. Zelda's jaw clenched as she winced in pain, her wrists stinging as her body flinched. Rivulets of blood trailed the valley of her chest, running warm down her stomach as Ganondorf readied the blade at her shoulder. He lifted a brow in question. "Zelda?"

She shivered, shying away from the knife on impulse. "N-no… Ngh!" The yelp echoed as she bit her lip, a fiery sting taking her shoulder to match her chest, blood seeping slowly down her collarbone with a haunting tickle. The cold steel of the knife pressed against her arms, held in shackles above her. His golden gaze bore into her, smoldering as if she were looking at the sun, as she shook her head forcefully. A clean slice slit both arms, as she suppressed a whimper in her abused throat—the bruise left from his hand earlier marring the smooth tissue. She could feel her essence running down her arms, some falling to drip down her back.

"We can do this all day, Zelda. No need to be so stubborn; there's no shame in humility." The crystalline glare staring back at him spoke volumes, as he drew the knife across her belly, rib to rib—He knew the little barbs would keep her resistant, for the moment, he was quite enjoying himself. Cut after shallow cut, he marveled at the sight of her, writhing beneath the kiss of his blade, ribbons of crimson streaking her frame and glistening by the fire's light. The shadows toying about her flawless body as rivulets dashed across it, down her thighs, around her breasts, dancing along the hollow of her neck… Her muscles twitched and quivered beneath taught, creamy skin.

She was delectably, serenely beautiful when she bled, or felt pain—her tormented eyes shone like heaven's light, and he could not help but drink deep of it; Angelic, was she, when caught in the throes of mortality. He did not care for her refusal, she was already his. Zelda's body burned with stinging pain, sticky with blood, as she trembled lightly in physical shock. The Dark Lord ran his tongue across the knife, casually tasting her sweet tang, and shot her a devilish grin as his eyes roamed the many wounds she now possessed.

"Zelda, really… You're starting to make me think you enjoy this…" He teased, running his fingers lightly against her stomach, striping blood in their wake. The Princess flinched, tears settling in the corners of her eyes as she blinked them back. Every inch of her ached from being shackled so awkwardly, but now the sting of his handiwork crisscrossed her flesh as well; She glared at him, saying nothing for fear her voice would waver with pain. It didn't help when her body tensed, the Gerudo drawing close enough to touch noses.

"I can taste it in your tears." He purred, gripping her chin and pressing his lips against hers briefly. He chuckled as he pulled away, taking the torch from its place and turning to leave. "I'll leave you to think about a wedding date, for now." Zelda watched him scornfully as he made his way back up the stairwell, the glow of the fire fading until she was left in utter darkness once again.

Such a place deprived her of her senses, and turned some against her, leaving little more than her thoughts. She could struggle through her hunger, the cold, even the ache of her legs and abused wrists… But Ganondorf's attendance weighed heavily in her mind, on her body; the only interaction she'd had in days, and it haunted her with nothing else to replace it. Her body writhed in pain, slow trickles and stinging cuts making his voice echo in her head. Another growl from her stomach was accompanied by the gnawing feeling of her body turning in on itself, seeking sustenance, while her legs grew ever weaker, her strength sapped by light blood loss—It made her feel heavy, increasing the searing pain of the shackles. Nothing seemed to relent; Her body worked against her in every way, and her mind was beginning to follow.

Silent tears fell unseen, hidden away in the lonely darkness and she was glad for it. It frightened her to think that she was close to breaking point as everything seemed to pile up on her, past and present, even the threat of the future. She closed her eyes against the dark, pathetic whimpers escaping her quivering lips—There was little point putting on a show of strength down here, alone. _Don't think about it,_ she consoled herself mentally, breaking through any other thoughts, _It's difficult, but it isn't forever. Soon… Soon he'll come…Link…Midna…_

Minutes turned to hours, blood dried and flaked around cracking wounds; she was too weak now to attempt healing magic of any kind. Her throat became dry, as her shallow breaths left her lips sore and split, she needed water. The hunger, pain and thirst were slowly driving her mind to delirium, without even time to guide her. As more time passed, the distant drip grew loud, maddening—Specters in the dark swirling about, wishing to feed on her despair, lick her cuts clean… She could almost see them, staring at her with hunger. Every corner left in her minds eye from the torchlight, surely housed a demon, the moss upon the stone walls crawling, like the fingers of the damned. She shivered in the cold, not knowing if her eyes were open or shut, forgetfulness of normality sinking slowly into her. Even her disorderly thoughts became as whispers in this hellish place, taunting her, the Gerudo's dark laughter ringing in her ears, even now.

_He'll come for me, I've played my part, he's coming now, he has the Master Sword, he'll be here, he'll take this away, slay these demons, creeping in the dark, he'll come for me…_This was the only defense keeping her mind intact as the hours rolled by, blurring together.

The echoed creak of an iron door woke her with a start, instantly causing a wince of discomfort—She didn't know when she was awake or asleep here, slipping in and out of consciousness with exhaustion. She didn't even care to guess at how long it had been, now, though the shallow cuts were knitting together. Her tattered mind started to come together, with the aid of sleep and something to focus on. Zelda hesitated, watching the glow of the torchlight fill the room just as it had before, and hoped she was not simply replaying the memory; Ganondorf's methods were beginning to make sense, she actually found herself wanting his company, even when he was to blame for her plight—Truthfully, anyone would do, at this point, but he was the only choice she had. She turned her head away from the brightness, her eyes adjusting behind closed lids to crack open slowly.

The Gerudo was dressed in his imposing armour, though his hair was unfurled in the absence of the thorned crown. Her eyes searched every detail of him wildly, as she tried to ground herself from the mind forged hell she'd been in—Her heart skipped a beat as her desperate gaze landed on his left arm, held behind his back. Her body twitched nervously, painfully, betraying her unrest. He had something. Was it food? Water? …Even a wedding ring, she didn't care as long as it relieved her or at least, didn't cause more discomfort.

The Dark Lord held a cruel, smug smile that chilled her bones, as he held the torch aloft, staring at her with those piercing eyes. "Zelda…" He said her name cheerfully, as if seeing an old friend. It made her heart quick with panic; a mouse toyed with by the hungry cat. "Have you come to a decision yet?" He tilted his head slightly, with a look of childlike curiosity.

The Princess stiffened, the corner of her mouth twitching as her voice came, broken and rasped. "I… I don't know…" She stuttered, suddenly remembering the burden he'd left her with—setting a date for the wedding. Zelda's body went cold as his vicious smile grew wider.

"Yes, I suppose it was a little forward of me to leave you with such a choice, in this condition…" He rumbled casually, running his gaze along her body while he was at it. "I see you're healing quite nicely. That's good, considering your weakened state." His eyes flicked to hers, gauging her silent reaction, and chuckled. "Fortunately, I have something to help you make up that fickle mind of yours. I know it's been plaguing you for a while, causing distraction, but I've taken care of it, now…" Zelda's brows creased in confusion—_Plaguing me? What does he…?_

The Gerudo shifted, casually throwing the item to the floor with a sodden slap. The noise drew her attention downward, eyes widening with horror as she gagged at the sight. Sitting there, upon the cold, filthy stone, lay a green cap, half soaked in dark blood. Her body shook as her mind rejected the image, though she couldn't tear her eyes away. _There is no way; It can't be…_ Every damned detail seared her vision—the stitching on the side, the tapered point at the end, the blood mingling with the fabric in a sickly reddish brown… It was Link's hat, without a doubt.

"N-no… You couldn't have…" She faltered, her voice hitching into strangled pitches. "Zelda, do you have no faith in me at all?" The Gerudo, enjoying this immensely, feigned a hurt look as he placed the torch within its holder. The Princess could feel her resolve slipping away, the last vestiges of hope ripped from her chest like a heart, held before her. Despite her injury, she shook her head violently, refusing to look at the garment on the floor. "No! I won't believe it!" She spat, desperate eyes fixing him with a hateful scowl. "I sent him forward to find the Master Sword, the Blade of Evil's Bane, myself! He was in beast form, cursed; for you to even have this hat would mean that he succeeded. That Sword would guide him safely through even the darkest trials, and-"

A harsh echo boomed as Ganondorf laughed, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head back. The tone of true amusement in the awful sound made her doubtful, the Gerudo quieting with a pleased sigh. He shook his head, as if she'd been joking, "Such naivety." He muttered to himself, before taking on an air of seriousness. "Indeed, Zelda, it is a formidable weapon. But so, too, was the Sword of light, wielded by the sages themselves, meant to be." He smirked, as recognition sparked in her eyes, her defiant confidence fading.

"Did you honestly expect, after giving up your own life and blessing so readily, that I would not guess what was worth such an act? I am well versed in these pitiful legends you hold so dear… It was simply a matter of waiting for him to emerge, unawares. A talented swordsman, but unpolished; Certainly not ready to face the likes of me, at any rate." He chuckled, gesturing to the hat, "…Obviously."

Zelda shuddered at the thought of what had likely occurred, glaring at the Hero's cap mournfully. "…An ambush…" She whispered to herself, her heart braking at such a rate that she could barely muster disgust for the cowardly attack. "Midna…?" She managed, cursing herself for even asking as soon as the name left her lips.

The Gerudo shrugged, brushing it off. "The imp is likely helpless without the boy… No doubt Zant has caught up with her by now to settle their grudges. If not, he will soon find her, stranded in this world as she is." A moment of silence passed, Zelda's throat stinging with the need to cough as she held back her sorrow. She nodded, understanding; _He's destroyed the Mirror of Twilight._ Even with the gift that she had given the Twili Princess, the imp's magic wouldn't be a match for Zant's; Not with Ganondorf's power fueling the madman. She knew that if the Hero was truly dead, and Midna not far behind, than the only hope for her people and lands—for herself even—would be to comply, and try appealing to the Dark Lord as a wife wherever she could to show leniency.

"Two months." She spoke weakly, "Allow me that time to mourn the fallen, and then we shall marry." Her serene features had set themselves, bereft of emotion. She didn't need to force it, she realized, as the ache of emptiness settled into apathy. She'd given everything she had for no return; what remained must be the will of the Goddesses themselves, and with that, her faith in them faded completely. All of it was a lie—Her hope, those legends, the tales her father had told her as a child about the dichotomy of good and evil that balanced the world.

The thought crossed her mind that the balance of the world was actually comprised of one scale tipping, and then the other; A necessary evil, followed by fruitful good, teetering back and forth rather than sitting equal, like so many hopeful men would believe in wishful thinking. She stared at the Dark Lord quizzically, her analytical mind racing to find new purpose. Perhaps it was her function that she unite with such an opposite being, and introduce the harmony of dark and light that, while hoped for, was apparently absent in the world. Even as his awful smirk returned, pleased as he was with her acceptance, Zelda considered this may be the answer to her question—It was not a divine prank. He was justified, seeking recompense for Din's lost children, and that is why he bore her mark upon his had as her avatar… And to him, to his people, perhaps it was she who was the embodiment of evil. The Princess single-handedly represented everything despised in Hylians, completing the collection with her underhanded actions these past months… It may well be the reason Ganondorf seemed so keen to conquer her as well. Things were—morbidly—starting to click together, in their abstract way. She sighed, resigning herself to this future; _May the Goddesses' Will be done_.

"A wise choice, Zelda… After all, it would be a shame to put your people through your death, as well." He mused, satisfied. Ganondorf had, despite his calm façade, been growing frustrated with her; He hadn't expected such a sheltered Princess to last this long, and impressive as it was, he'd be lying to say it hadn't concerned him. _Especially after that little trump card,_ He thought bitterly, recalling the Master Sword of legend, _But, finally, things are falling into place, as they should. I won't let her out of my sight again, crafty little thing_. He lifted a hand lazily, a bolt of purple shadow emanating from his hand before the shackles released; Zelda crumpling unceremoniously to the hard stone floor.

_How pathetic,_ He thought briefly, before she moved to stand almost immediately, albeit on wobbly legs and steadying herself upon the wall, holding her head high. _Ah… I see. Not broken, just beaten down and backed into a corner, are you? _He chuckled in his mind, watching the feat as she scraped together what dignity she could. The Dark Lord almost felt a flicker of pride for her; truly, she was an unsung hero, just as formidable, in her own way, as her counterpart. He did relish a challenge, especially those put to him unexpectedly. His smirk faltered lightly when she shot him an indignant look, half expecting a final hurrah of defiance.

Zelda rubbed her wrists lightly, clearing her throat to speak. "…Are you going to allow me clothes, or do you expect me to follow around like some licentious concubine?" She sounded annoyed, more than anything.

Ganondorf couldn't help the amused scoff that caught in his throat. "Do you really want _my_ opinion on that matter, or would you care to rephrase that?" Zelda shot him an offended glare, wrapping her arms weakly around her thin torso.

"…Can I have some clothes… _Please_." It wasn't a question. The Gerudo smirked lightly, and with a rather cliché snap of his fingers, the shadows cast by the torchlight took a life of their own, cascading from the grim surrounds to travel across her broken skin, forming an ethereal dress. It was not unlike the first evening wear he had given her; its hem whispering along the stone floor, falling from her hips with a mesmerizing fluidity, sucking the light from the very air and devouring it. It covered her wounds perfectly, as even shadowed gloves swirled to encase her arms, hiding her wrists from further damage. She hated it immediately; as far as Zelda was concerned, it may as well have been crafted out of her own anguished misery.

Sighing, she went to take a step, not realizing how difficult such a thing was after the treatment her lags had received, and stumbled; Her ankle rolled painfully, and her knees were quick to buckle, sending her collapsing into the powerful arms of her captor as her hands landed upon the plated armour. Ignoring the pain, she was quick to shoo him away, pushing against his chest and struggling to stand. "I don't need your help!" She spat childishly, furious at herself.

Her protests went unheeded, however, as she found herself lifted, an arm swooping beneath her frail legs to carry her. "Must you always be so difficult? I could simply leave you here, unaided, if you think you can hobble your way to the dining room." He hissed with warning. Zelda's attempts to wriggle free, not wanting to be so close, came to a halt as soon as the word dining room hit her pointed ears. She hated being in his arms, the scent of him like salt upon her wounds with the memories it sparked, but her need to eat overshadowed everything else with primal intensity. Instead, she opted to remain still, crossing her arms to rest them.

"That's a good girl. I thought not." Ganondorf's agitation faded, turning on his heel to cross the cavernous cell and ascend the crumbling steps, Princess in tow.

A slow journey through a few floors, up a magnificent marble staircase and many halls, was traversed in silence, save for the odd cough from the Princess. The moist air of the cells had taken its toll on her lungs, and she didn't doubt that she had fallen ill. It would most likely take hold over the next few days, though she didn't mind the thought of being bedridden—Warm and soft, merciful rest would be taken full advantage of, so she resolved not to let Ganondorf heal her, if he tried. She would simply deny the severity, or say that she was capable of taking care of it, hoping that would satisfy him. Her mind wandered over many things as she tried to stifle her itching lungs, including the ironic familiarity playing out; This had truly started with her in solitary confinement, demanding better treatment and food… Zelda marveled at how immature that seemed now.

She would trade anything to go back in time, be satisfied with her daily apple and whatever that sickly gruel was, and await the still living Hero in the comfort of her tower, pacified by Wisdom, while Ganondorf merely taunted her in the mirror, never to touch her. That scenario seemed like paradise to her tormented mind now; Her crystalline gaze watching the empty shells of armour as the passed them, each standing to attention as if the ghost of every man who had fallen to defend her still gave a posthumous salute. How she had betrayed them, feeding their hopes, their souls, to the nightmarish beasts just to buy time. The day she'd surrendered, she'd done so in the hopes of saving their lives, preventing needless suffering… And yet, the more she tried to help, the more she seemed to doom them, wasting precious efforts upon fruitless gambles and losing every asset to her own folly.

_I deserve this, for failing everyone_—She deemed herself unfit to follow in her ancestors footsteps.

As they entered the large dining hall, she watched the arch of the massive doorway pass overhead, like crossing the threshold into a new world for her. She'd do what little she could, her heart would never allow her to be completely idle, but she would never live up to her name, nor would she try; She was ready to accept life as the merciful Queen at Ganondorf's side with humility and grace, and try to make the best of it. The Dark Lord rounded to the side of the large table where they'd shared their first meal, setting Zelda down on the plush of her chair and standing beside her a moment, studying her.

She sat silent, arms lazily crossed over her lap, and looked deep in thought. Her fragile frame shuddered slightly as she tried to hide her cough; He knew how vulnerable she was, weakened, demoralized and becoming sick… She was in the palm of his hand, to be crushed or admired at his whim. He shifted, taking his place in the ornate seat, reserved for kings, and reclined. Ganondorf wasn't sure which he preferred more; Her sullen compliance or her spirited failures.

Zelda jumped slightly as the sound of the small servant doors tore her from her thoughts, a few monstrosities coming to set the table, scuffling about and laying down plates and silverware. Glasses were put down, wine poured, candles lit, napkins laid; Everything was of exquisite quality, even without food accompanying it of yet. The Princess grew curious—Even during her rouse, Ganondorf was by no means a romantic or terribly sentimental man, a lovely candle lit dinner, now of all times, took her by some surprise. _No doubt he probably thinks this a part of our 'engagement'. It looks like a celebration dinner_, she thought, chancing a glance at him. _Straight from the cell to luxury like this; Perhaps he is trying to make the arrangement seem appealing by comparison, discouraging defiant conduct…Or trying to condition me with a reward system_.

Her stomach growled painfully, impatient and taunted by the silverware, causing her to wince and grimace in discomfort. She'd never understand how people could live like this, hungry each day, eating only enough to survive. As cruel as he had been to her, Zelda had to acknowledge how many harsh truths she had been exposed to, experienced, thanks to the Gerudo King; He had, in a strange way, taught her more about the world outside her castle than any of her tutors ever could. She stared at the wine, the glass glistening sweetly, and had to steady herself when she reached for it not to snatch it desperately—It wasn't the water that her body craved, no, but it was liquid and it was welcome none the less.

Dry lips stung as the wine coated them, she forwent any appreciation of the drink as she normally would have, allowing it to sweep across her tongue and down her parched throat gratefully. Not stopping for breath, she didn't realize she had downed the glass until she was left with a disappointing trickle, setting it on the table quickly with some embarrassment to look down at her lap. Zelda heard a chuckle, and the swishing of her glass being refilled, before he spoke.

"How refreshing to see your appetite returned. Do not fret, Zelda, dinner will be along shortly… feel free to eat your fill. The food isn't going to turn to ash in your mouth, you should savour it."

When she peered up at him, there was amusement lightly etched into his harsh features, a brow aloft. She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice failed her, so instead she simply gave a light nod. It wasn't as if she wanted to talk to him right now, anyway, inside, she was still reeling from the death of the Hero—It scared her, made her world feel unstable, to think that a Hero could be defeated. Of course it was possible, but she never expected it… So treasured to her were the legends of old that her faith in Link had escalated to a fairytale level; Zelda naturally thought, once chosen, a Hero would always succeed. She'd practically indoctrinated herself during childhood to hold true to such unfounded beliefs, and carried them with the same passion into adulthood, though now, she almost felt ashamed at trusting such a one sided delusion.

Ganondorf sipped his wine at a leisurely pace, watching her eyes with interest—Though her face showed none of it, her eyes flickered with emotional turmoil. Sucking air through his teeth, silently bubbling the drink upon his tongue, he realized that she fascinated him. He might even compare her to wine—appealing to the senses, yet many tastes hidden within, privy only to those with experience enough to find them. She kept him on his toes, sharpening his wit and providing him with a constant puzzle to solve, an intellect to compete with. He enjoyed her; not going far enough to say that he was fond of her or cared for her, but rather, he was accustomed to her and found her to be a great source of entertainment and self development. It was one of the very few things keeping her alive.

"I do hope," The Gerudo began gruffly, inspecting the colour of his wine idly, "That you are busy considering wedding details…" His golden gaze shifted, scrutinizing her in her hush. The Princess' eyes quickly glanced up at him, seemingly taken off guard; _That got her attention,_ He thought with satisfaction, growing impatient with the silence. "I would hate to think that you are still struggling with petty distractions, _my dear_. As I'm sure you've noticed, I have a nasty tendency to get a bit… jealous from time to time." His eyes narrowed dangerously upon the word, and he could see an immediate reaction in her.

Zelda took a short breath, plucking up her glass to put some sort of barrier between them, "I was just considering… whether or not a white dress was still appropriate…" She said quietly, almost afraid to lie to him again so readily; She had made a strong note to herself not to raise his ire, if she could help it.

The Dark Lord put in a great effort not to look surprised, or laugh, at such a statement. "You may wear whatever you choose. If you do not wish for your people to be aware of our… pre-marital union, then one of your 'White Weddings' would probably be best." No sooner had he said it, did a dark and humourous thought cross his mind. "…To be perfectly honest, I do not know whether your maidenhead reformed with the rest of your body, so a white dress may be entirely justified, at the current moment." He chuckled darkly, raising the rim of the glass to his mouth. "I suppose we'll find out, sooner or later."

The Princess' eyes widened slightly, a chill running down her spine; she hadn't even considered that possibility, shuddering briefly as a new wave of dread washed over her. She could only hope that the Gods were merciful enough to spare her of going through that again—It was inevitable that he would bed her as a wife, she could accept that, but to endure the torturous experience of losing her virginity twice was just uncalled for. _Not to mention that, by the sounds of it, we are to have a public wedding as well_. She sighed, taking the glass to her lips to drink half of its contents.

The sound of doors opening and the awkward shuffle of inhuman feet alerted them to the arrival of their meal, diminutive Dinofos serving a hearty broth, with freshly baked bread, between them on the table and piling roasted meat and vegetables onto their plates. Zelda could have sworn one of the beasts sniffed her hair in passing, as they scurried off quickly, leaving them to eat with the slamming of the doors. Disturbing creatures aside, it smelled divine, and the starved Princess held the cutlery not more than a second after they had left, cutting the meat without any regard for grace.

Ganondorf simply watched, bemused, at how quickly she took to the food, in wonderment of how something as routine and required as table manners, even among royalty, was lost to primal need when it arose. After a few more moments—and the ravenous woman already half way through her plate—The Gerudo set his glass aside, calmly taking to his own meal, not deterred or put off by the girl at all. He chewed upon his first bite thoughtfully, considering its taste, before swallowing; "Interesting." He mused, cutting another piece. "Sweeter than I'd imagined, and quite tender…" He eyed the meat atop his fork, holding it aloft. "It has a surprisingly red colouring, even well done. I'm quite pleased with it, actually."

Zelda, finishing her plate with a satisfied sigh, couldn't help but agree. "Yes, it is delicious, and the spices complemented it well… I don't believe I've had it before. What is it?" The Gerudo lifted a brow in thought, "Ordonian, I believe." Finally, he popped the piece into his mouth, continuing his meal. The Princess nodded, fetching a small bowl and taking hold of the ladle, to pour herself some broth. _Ah,_ she thought, _I don't often have goat… I must remember to have more, when I get the chance_.

Taking some of the bread, she dipped it in, allowing it to soak up the flavours before nibbling on it, enjoying the feel of a satisfied belly. It tasted wonderful, even more so after so long without, and she picked up her fork, eager to pilfer out the meat from the broth first. She stopped, though, when she saw something odd floating in the liquid. Swallowing her bite, she curiously poked her fingers into the bowl, plucking it out to see what it was. Ganondorf's eyes fell upon her as her fork clattered against the empty plate, dropped by an unresponsive hand. Held in front of her, between thumb and forefinger, was a disembodied toe; A distinctly humanoid toe.

"…Ordonian… You say?" She whispered breathlessly, staring at the body part in her grasp intensely, bereft of emotion once more. The Dark Lord smiled cruelly, giving a slight incline of his head. "Yes. A rare delicacy, though I put the flavours down to his lifestyle…" He chuckled darkly. "He tastes of wherever he's been."

The image of the bloodied cap raced through her mind, mingling with memories. _Link_, she thought in shock, _You've been eating Link_…_ And you thought he was delicious_. A light splash was heard as the toe was dropped back into the bowl, The Princess frozen in position, staring at the space where it had just been. Something snapped inside of her, as a noise thrummed in her throat—She giggled. After a few moments, it grew into a heavy chuckle, as she fell back into her seat, her body twitching. She gasped, letting out insane laughter and allowed her head to loll back and rest against the chair, closing her eyes. Tears fell down the sides of her face, as Ganondorf watched on silently, broken sobs staining the mad cackle as her breathing began to hitch. Her knuckles grew white beneath the gloves, slender fingers gripping the seat tightly, as Zelda finally broke down into an unstable, wailing laughter; She shook her head, her legs trembled, forgetting that her captor was even there—She didn't care anymore.

The Gerudo pushed his chair back to stand, shifting to kneel beside her, tucking a tangled lock of hair behind her ear tenderly. "Now, now…" He soothed, placing a hand upon her thigh as his fingers brushed her cheek. "It's all over, now… Never again, will this happen… I will protect you from the evils of the world, and beyond."

The disheveled Princess flailed weakly, trying to push him away in the throes of temporary insanity, but ultimately collapsed against his shoulder. Her laughter subsided slowly, leaving her to cry as she normally would, to exhausted, both mentally and physically, to do anything else as she buried her face into his neck and tussled hair, arms weakly draping themselves over his broad shoulders. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity to her, though it was only a minute or so; Zelda barely registered being taken in his arms again, or making the journey to his quarters, clinging desperately to the only thing she truly knew anymore—Him.

**A/N: **

**Man, after writing this story so far, I actually feel really guilty about wasting my time in TP by going fishing, not even thinking about poor Zelda. DX**

**Also, a shout out to those of you who made multiple reviews, like A Shade of Grey91, taking such an interest in the story thus far—Support is really appreciated, and I'm really happy that this has been so well received, given it's my first crack at Fanfiction; I'm usually just a fanartist… But on that note, if I do any illustrations, I'll let you guys know, if anyone's interested. **

**Cheers!**


	10. Black Books and Graves

A few short days, and the light cough garnered from the musty air of the cells had developed into a feverous illness, Zelda's coughing now crackling and burning her lungs. The Princess had slept for the most part, and simply remained in bed otherwise, listless and lonely—Not to mention recovering from shock—over the first two days. A familiar Iron Knuckle brought her up any meals, though she had become temporarily vegetarian, and poured her tea from the silver tea set that adorned her end table—It seemed humourous to her, seeing the hulking warrior pour tea for an ailing Princess, but sadly, she still didn't have the heart to find joy in it.

The Iron Knuckle, having been on guard outside of the dining room the other night, was more nervous about Zelda than ever before; He'd heard the cackling as it echoed down the hall, followed by crying. Since, the beast was unequivocally scared of the tiny Princess, knowing full well that she must be eccentric and unstable, and that fact coupled with his Master's affections was a dangerous thing should he make a mistake. Whispers and gossip quickly spread throughout the ranks, and though their beastly tongues would not be understood elsewhere, any monster who was to cast an ear toward the castle would hear talk of the 'Mad Queen'.

Finding no purchase in sleep, Zelda lay coddled in the silken sheets and covers of the large bed, bleary eyed and tired. She was obviously in mourning, though no cloak would hide her pathetic state this time. Sniffling lightly, she traced a slender finger over the cut upon her stomach—It was the least healed, stressed by movement and her coughing while the rest were no more then subtle scratches now. Each seethe and splutter caused it to throb with a dull stinging, and it marked and highlighted the burning feeling of her diaphragm.

On the upside, Ganondorf had given her a wide berth over her sickness, leaving her to rest without disturbance; He came by to check on her once a day, and returned to sleep at night. His chambers had become a sort of sanctuary; it was so different from anything she knew, like a piece of Gerudo country had been placed in the castle, that it made her feel sheltered and far away. Far away from anything that had happened… Every trace of her father in the room was gone as well, and she was glad to feel hidden from his eyes, even in death. She knew she'd have to set foot outside soon enough, in a white dress, and smile; She wasn't sure she could handle that, let alone have her ancestors watching her in every other waking moment. But, she had to—Not for the sake of marrying Ganondorf, but for the peace of her people. As cliché and childish as it sounded, in Hyrule, when she smiled, the world smiled with her. She owed them that much.

Holding her chest as her frame was wracked by another coughing fit, she reached out, curling her fingers around the delicate cup. Warm milky tea was comforting with its sweet taste, soothing her throat and warming her belly. She sighed, leaning against the mahogany bed head, the wood cool upon her bare shoulders as her eyes traced the patterns upon the china. Zelda knew she had to do something; She couldn't continue to mope about in bed all day and night. Taking another sip of tea before placing the cup aside, she shifted, peeling the covers back and turning weakly to slip her legs out.

Even as her feet touched the stone, it was barely cool, the room warmed by the fire—She had guessed that it was magically fueled, not requiring wood to burn and holding a steady, constant flame. She stood slowly, wobbling slightly on weak legs, and gained her balance before taking a careful step, making sure not to collapse as she had before; She was pleased to find herself strong enough to walk about. A smile ghosted along her mouth as she walked gingerly toward Ganondorf's private bookshelf, eyes already spying a few volumes with potential.

Stopping in front of it, her toes wriggled upon the small rug, and breathing deep of the smell of incense and parchment, the Princess ran her fingers down the spine of one tome, considering it. She needed something new, something to throw herself into to feed her habit—Her old friend, that duplicitous book of legends, of _childish stories_, had been put to rest. Cremated, in fact; the symbolism of the act had even put her at some ease with her new lot in life. Blinking, she glanced at the shelf just above her head, reaching up in interest to pull a tattered black book into her grasp; It was different from the others, well worn and in questionable condition. It almost looked like a diary, and held no title or any clue as to what was inside, smaller than the others and fragile with age.

Intrigued, Zelda opened it slowly, cradling it in the crook of her arm like a child, turning a blank, stained page to reveal its contents. Her brows furrowed as tired eyes tried to discern the faded etching upon the sepia-tone; this was a personal sketchbook.

Turning automatically, she returned to the bed, engrossed in the odd find. The first few pages held sketches of a castle, familiar yet she'd never seen it, it wasn't the one they were in now… Though, the architecture was unmistakably Hylian in design. Pulling the covers around her, she set the book upon her lap, taking up her cup once more as she flipped through it, mesmerized.

She traced her finger lightly upon the aged ink lines, her heart warming with the familiar beauty of the images—Whoever the artist was knew exactly how to portray the serene majesty of her land, admiration in every stroke, and without error, each sketch showed painstaking attention to detail. _A courtyard,_ she thought fondly, as she came upon the rendering, _How beautiful it is, too…such a harmonious looking place, with the water and the flowers; I could sit upon those steps and enjoy them all day_. As she flipped through each page, the more she looked upon, the more a genuine smile took up its place on her features for the first time in quite a while. _Ah, the western fields!_ She brought the small volume closer to her face, as the ink had been smeared around the edges, likely having water distort the scene. _And look at those beautiful wild horses, _the rim of the cup was held ready at her lips, _Such a shame we don't see them roam there, these days…You'd have to go to the lands of Eldin to see them, now_. Sipping at her tea, Zelda was content within her own little world, enraptured with borrowed memories of a bygone era.

The hours went by quickly, absorbed in her unexpected treasure, as the Princess delved into the world upon the pages—Hyrule, simplistic lives, healthy rivers, small populations… Virgin vistas undefiled, still maintaining all the majesty and beauty of the Goddesses' touch. It saddened her to think how much things had changed since such an age; How could anyone, God or mortal, allow such paradise to be tainted, disfigured or taken for granted?

It occurred to her that the artist had owned this book, adding to it, over a large portion of their lives, as slowly the pictures began to change. The strokes grew vicious, the hand behind the quill impatient and spiteful, as the once admired land, delicately crafted by skill, was torn asunder by the rage and corruption contaminating the artist's imagination. After watching the depicted land fall to ruin, the art turning from loving strokes to frustrated scratches, Zelda found a few pages torn out at the end, before the drawings ceased altogether. Her heart fell with sorrow as she realized who the artist must've been—Especially when she heard him enter his rooms, her ears twitching as she heard movement beyond the door.

A shock of panic ran through her, as she looked around, holding the book dumbly. She turned at the last second, opening the drawer and stashing the book within her end table, closing it quickly. Within that very second, the door opened, revealing a disgruntled looking Gerudo King, and Zelda—Caught in the odd pose of leaning over the bed and reaching out—Covered her actions quickly by pouring another cup of tea.

Thankfully, he hadn't shot her so much as a glance, strolling in with a sharp slamming of the door behind him. Something was clearly bothering the man, as the Princess watched him with fresh eyes, easily picking up on his body language. He sat in one of the plush armchairs beside the fire, slumping and rubbing his temple lightly with a gruff sigh; almost as if he'd forgotten that she was even there.

Zelda grew curious, and a bit concerned, as she cleared her throat, stirring a fleeting look from the Dark Lord; "…Tea?" She offered meekly, unnerved by his agitation.

She received a grunt of ascent, as the man looked into the fire with perusal. Eager at an excuse to get up again, she poured his cup full, and proceeded slowly over to the other armchair, setting the tea upon the small side table between them. A momentary and trivial pride passed through her—She hadn't spilled a single drop, even in her condition. Gazing into the fire, she wondered if she should try to put the Gerudo in a better mood, or whether that may irritate him more; She didn't need to incur another 'behavioral adjustment', though if she consoled him, he might tell her what was troubling him.

Zelda tugged at her slip, picking at the fabric as she fortified her courage, taking a long breath and peering over. "I am recovering at a good pace…" She began, carefully. "The warmth and rest seems to have done me well, I should be able to move about the rooms without worsening, now." She stared at him intently, gauging him.

Ganondorf glared at the fire, his thoughts interrupted, and rested his chin in his fingers. "…Good to know." He growled dismissively, grimacing as the words came harsher than he would have liked. Seeing her flinch out of the corner of his eye, he sighed, shifting in his seat and reaching for the cup of tea. With a slightly softer tone, he rectified himself. "I am relieved to see you out of bed. At least the fever seems to have settled." Glancing over the rim of the cup, he took a sip, willing the drink to calm him.

Truthfully, he doubted anything would steady his frayed nerves besides her company, oddly enough—It was half the reason he had retired early. The only problem with that, though, was the fact that if he wasn't careful with his temper, Zelda might catch on to the reality he'd tried so hard to isolate her from… He felt threatened. Unbeknownst to his prize, the Hero was alive and well, Master Sword in hand and traversing the mesas of his homeland as they spoke. The Gerudo was wise to have Zant shatter the Mirror, preventing the boy from getting any further… But with that wretched blade and his human form returned, he was roaming free around Hyrule, doing as he pleased; A constant nuisance that, as it stood, put him at an impasse. He couldn't back down, but neither could he continue his dark designs for vengeance without any punishment being thwarted, leaving him only two options: Face the boy and chance defeat, continuing on to impose the suffering of his people onto their oppressors, or hide the Hero's existence from Zelda long enough to be married, and sacrifice Zant beforehand, setting aside his anger to pass as an acceptable king.

The ultimatum had plagued him since bringing the Princess back, though especially today, after learning of the Hero's progress; Seeing Zelda's sacrifice pay off had tempted him to throw her in the dungeon again, and it was little wonder he was being short with her. He'd decided, not long after locking her in the cells, to play it safe until he could decide—Allowing her to believe the Hero was dead would buy him the time he needed, as well as prepare her for becoming a suitable wife. This was why he had forged the boy's hat, smearing it with blood— When he had seen her stand, still resistant, he could've smacked her though the wall in frustration. Fortunately, he was a resourceful man; casting an illusionary spell on the baby carrots in the broth, to make them appear as human toes and fingers, was the final touch he needed to push her over the edge. It had worked a charm, and he wouldn't allow his own foolish temper to give it away now.

The Princess felt some relief as he corrected himself, happy in the knowledge that she was not to be a victim of his ire. "Yes, it has… I was growing rather tired of being confined to your… _our_ bed." She forced herself to remember, careful of him still. Feeling awkward, she took to her tea, holding it and allowing it to warm her hands. "Are you alright…?" She probed lightly, "You seem tense." She blinked, dropping her gaze to her cup submissively as his head snapped towards her, looking as if she'd insulted him.

"I am **fine**." He ground out slowly, his left eye threatening to twitch. Quickly restraining his panic, he added, with a sigh. "…I've had a difficult day." He admitted, glaring at the fire once more.

Zelda tapped a finger silently upon the cup, curiosity getting the better of her. "Would you…Like to talk about it?" She offered hopefully, sending him a sidelong glance. His jaw moved subtly as he seemed to consider it, Zelda's head slowly turning toward him with interest.

The Gerudo eyed her with some suspicion, shifting his thoughts onto a substitute subject. "No, not particularly, Zelda… It will only leave me feeling foolish, dwelling on things that should simply be left to the past." He lied, trusting the aversion they shared for discussing their history.

The images of the sketchbook rushed through the Princess' mind, and she came to a swift conclusion as to what had him so worked up. Nodding softly, she spoke. "…You visited the desert today… Didn't you?"

Ganondorf raised a fiery brow, intrigued by the guess—Apparently, she could still sympathize with his losses. Apart from that, he was pleased that her interpretation of his mood was not an incredulous one. Choosing to play along with it, curious, he glanced at his cup. "Not that the affairs of my country have ever been of any real concern to a Hylian, besides war and adultery…" He said high handedly, somewhat bitter. "But I suppose you expect me to humour you, betrothed as we are." He shot her an odd look, sipping the tea slowly.

Zelda bit her lip lightly, a sting of guilt passing over her once more—It was like having her epiphany in the library all over again. "I won't pretend that the treatment of your people was particularly fair; You have every right to be resentful, just the same as I for what I've suffered at your hands, in turn." She sighed, gazing at the fire. "The ruins to be found where the Gerudo once resided do not speak kindly of the truth. Fear and hatred can grow from a single seed of doubt, or misunderstanding, and one might argue that your actions only served to promote that growth." She confessed, regret evident in her voice.

Ganondorf scoffed humourlessly, giving a sarcastic sneer. "And I imagine you'll next be telling me that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions." _Perhaps this wasn't the best subject to let her prattle on about,_ he thought with disgust, _Gods only know, we'll be 'bonding' next_.

Zelda frowned some, tapping a chewed nail on the china impatiently. "Fair or not, you were bound by treaty during the unification, and swore fealty to the Hyrulian Sovereign thereafter. You may well have held the welfare of your people as a high priority, but to throw away their security in your recklessness, and put their only recognized leader—Yourself—in jeopardy, is inexcusable. We Hylians may have set the stage for the Gerudo's downfall, but it was you who damned them when you failed to insure their survival in the event that your plans were exposed…" She glared at him. "Which they were."

To say that she hadn't struck a painful nerve would be an understatement, as raw anger flashed across the man's face dangerously. "Well, aren't you feeling adventurous today…" He hissed through his teeth, considering a punishment immediately.

Zelda didn't seem bothered by it, as she softened to continue. "I know you don't want to hear it. But I understand… Because I have done the same, in a sense. You and I, we are more alike than we would care to admit." She smiled ruefully, noting how his muscles had tensed, like a cobra about to strike. "We both gave everything we had, only to end up destroying what little chance we had to protect what we held so highly above all else. Now, the Gods have left us naught but each other; the last vestiges of balance in a bleak world." Blinking tiredly, she peered up at the Gerudo to find he had settled some, a twinge of confusion in his golden eyes, amongst anger and apprehension. _A world of our own making, truly, _She thought, studying her fiancé with a wistful look.

Ganondorf listened, bristling at her words, though grudgingly accepting them. He hadn't expected to be chastised—He was somewhat impressed that she'd spoken to him so frankly, and without notable bias, though he never did take criticism well. _If she wants to talk facts, fine; _"Be that as it may, how exactly do you propose I was to go about ensuring a 'fail-safe' for our _survival_?" He shot back icily, scrutinizing her with an accusatory glare. "The fact of the matter was, _Princess_, that we Gerudo were not surviving to begin with. If no action were taken, however reckless it may seem, we would have met our end within the reign of the next King, regardless. We were starved, diseased, and our currency could never match the strength of your country's economy. Every step we made was matched by prejudice and distrust, and even after our alliance, we were kept at arms length to be worn away by the desert winds. A Gerudo in Hyrule, if not on official business, licking your licentious ancestors' boots, or fighting your battles for you, would be arrested for theft before even laying a finger on a rupee in the gutters."

He sneered, turning his hateful glare to the fire. "My failure did nothing more than quicken the demise of an already terminal race."

Zelda shifted nervously, knowing that she hadn't helped his mood at all; Instead, she seemed to give him the excuse to turn his agitation back upon her. But she was desperate to get to the source of his pain and douse the fires of his rage as much as possible, for that was the only hope she had of bringing mercy of any kind to the innocents in the world below—They were a diverse people, and much more accepting, different from the hierarchical society of old. They did not deserve to inherit the atonement owed by their predecessors. "Is that why the land's beauty grew tainted, in your eyes?" She questioned softly, going out on a dangerously thin limb. "So resentful were you of us that you began to believe we were unworthy of our blessings, and your admiration for Hyrule's prosperity and nurturing splendor grew into an envious rage…" She flinched as his eyes returned to hers, something akin to murder burning in his irises, inquisitive and furious that she knew him so well.

_Should I tell him I saw the sketches?_ She asked herself, unable to tap into her Wisdom to weigh her thoughts, _No, look at him… he would most likely flay me alive for such a breach of his privacy_. Truly, she'd glimpsed a very intimate part of the man's inner workings, and he would no doubt react negatively if such insight was revealed. Biting her lip, she finished tentatively, "…I am sorry for our selfishness." She wouldn't pity him, or press the issue further—She could only give him the genuine apology his people deserved, even if he was the only one to hear it. Maybe one day, she'd get one herself, when all was said and done.

The Dark Lord, slightly taken aback, tried not to let it show, his mind racing to decide whether this was favourable or not. Staring at her, he could feel his anger slipping away, the corner of his mouth twitching. He had sworn he wouldn't allow her to soothe him, though he was forced to recognize that, by some twist of fate, he had sought her out for exactly that—something to ground himself on, to comfort and steady him, easing his stress and frustrations. Zant's warning echoed in his mind tauntingly as he shifted in his chair, mentally squashing the thought; _So, she is simply a more useful tool to me than I'd expected,_ He reasoned, justifying the action to himself, _There is no harm in it, so long as she remembers her place. It's not as if I'll allow myself to fall into the deep; If anything, she is simply acknowledging my right to rule, which is a part of my goal_. He made a point to ignore the fact that he had somewhat confided in her the troubles that had plagued him in the last age; he was merely defending his actions and proving her wrong yet again, nothing more. After a moment, he gave her a curt nod of acceptance, returning his gaze to the flickering fire as he took another sip of tea.

Zelda smiled lightly to herself, satisfied that she'd finally managed to take the edge off. It was also likely that she'd just set them off to a positive start in, what could potentially be, a peaceable and mutually beneficial arrangement. Her apology had been accepted and he hadn't struck her—Somewhat victoriously, she raised the cup to her lips, hiding the smile before he caught it. For the first time, a genuinely comfortable silence passed between them, content in silent company despite everything they had done to one another. It was ironic that two beings, so strongly and naturally opposed, had forged a bond of understanding such as this; Twisted, and even disturbing, though it was, they were forming an odd companionship. As the couple watched the dancing flames, Zelda finally broke the silence, piping up with a definitive and vague tone.

"Lilies."

Ganondorf paused, lifting his head and throwing her an odd look. "…Lilies?" Cocking a brow at her, the Princess simply nodded.

"Yes, lilies. For the wedding… I think having a theme of lily flowers is acceptable, given the amount of death, recently. But, I would like to think that it's also symbolic. The death of an era, as it were; leaving the old to get on with the new." She straightened the hem of her slip as she spoke with a casual tone. The Gerudo seemed to find this humourous, smirking with amusement. Zelda was relieved to see him perk up, and chanced some grim wit that made her stomach cringe in memory. "And I want a vegetarian menu. I'll not have you eating people at the reception." The tone of seriousness slipped through, which only served to pull the Dark Lord's smirk into a mischievous grin, a dark chuckle escaping him.

"Very well, Zelda. I believe I can allow that, given that a wedding is supposedly the 'happiest day' in a Hylian woman's life."

The Princess sent him a sarcastic look, before an odd thought struck her. "May I ask you something?" The Gerudo clicked his tongue, glancing at his empty cup. "…Only if you pour me another drink." Zelda rolled her eyes light-heartedly, taking the cups with her as she stood, making her way over to the bedside tea set. _What am I, a servant? I'm supposed to be recovering,_ She mused internally. "Well…" She began, pouring the cups full, "I was just curious to know about your customs concerning marriage." She lifted the drinks carefully, focusing on her balance as she walked—Gifted with natural grace, she was doing well not to spill any of it. "I can't say the books I've read have shed much light on the subject, unfortunately." Handing him his cup, she settled back into her seat, tucking her legs up cozily.

"No, I wouldn't expect so." He admitted, taking a sip and considering how to explain the matter. "Truth be told, the Hylian concept of marriage was actually somewhat… taboo, in our culture. As a result, I'm not surprised there is little documentation on the phenomenon."

Zelda's brows furrowed with interest. "Taboo?" She repeated, the notion sounding strange; _Obviously, not enough to deter you,_ she thought with disenchantment.

"A wife," He elaborated, "At least in the age in which I was educated, was to be considered the legal property of their husband under Hyrulian law. I'm sure you are aware of this, given how opposed to the idea you were initially." He smirked, earning himself a tired look from his forced fiancé. "As I was saying, to be a spouse is to be owned, and in that sense, considered lesser than and dependant on your male counterpart. You can imagine the reception _that_ ideal might get in an all female clan, made up of proud warriors, who frequently matched and even surpassed most men in skill and ingenuity. To marry was considered an insult to your own sisters, as well as self-depreciation, and so was exceedingly rare." He peered into the cup, tilting his head in remembrance. "It wasn't as frowned upon for the King to marry, provided his spouse was not Gerudo. I can literally count the weddings I've seen on one hand, and none of them were happy occasions; usually political, or the result of an abduction or blackmail."

The Princess grimaced, not getting the sort of answer she'd hoped for. "...Lovely. It is nice to know that I am having a traditional Gerudo wedding." She joked darkly, sympathizing with the views of his ancient sisters.

Ganondorf didn't seem to get it, making an evasive hum and hiding behind his tea.

All things aside, talking about their future made it seem less foreboding to Zelda, and she was coming to realize that the more time she had to plan for it, and being appraised of what was happening, made it much easier to deal with on the whole. She really didn't want any more surprises. Setting her cup down, she sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes lightly before running her fingers over her forehead and into her hair, frowning slightly with dissatisfaction as she pulled a tangled lock forward to inspect it.

"…What did you do with my hair brush?" She questioned suddenly, frustrated by its absence.

"I threw it, out the window." He said simply, trying to hide a small smile.

Zelda stared at him, mouth ajar. "May I ask why?" She was clearly agitated, and the Gerudo snickered.

"No."

A naughty, childish grin wormed its way onto his face as the Princess glared daggers at him.

"Can I have another one?" She spat, her agreeable mood lost comically over a simple hairbrush.

"…No." He said, as if the very word was delicious on his tongue, chuckling as Zelda's temper continued to sour, her cheeks red with the want to slap him, doubtless. "…Alright, if you're a good girl… I'll consider replacing it." He jibed, smirking victoriously before sipping his drink.

Zelda clearly bristled at the condescension, much to his amusement; _A good girl? What a perfect ass. No doubt that's just a sneaky way of saying, 'if you bed me again',_ She thought, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. "Fine." She hissed, like a cat in water.

Ganondorf, deciding to add insult to injury, set his cup aside, patting his thigh invitingly. Zelda looked affronted, staring at him like he'd grown another head. "I'm quite comfortable, thank you." She said quickly. He raised a brow, sending her a look that spoke volumes. "…I'm not." With a sigh, she picked herself up, stepping in front of him as he shifted and gingerly sat upon his knee.

Apparently, it wasn't good enough, as a muscled arm snaked around her waist to pull her into him possessively. _At least he's not wearing his armour,_ she thought, wriggling uncomfortably against his furred tunic. Her eyes shot wide when he grunted behind her ear, and immediately froze, realizing the effect her movement was having. Tucking her legs up, she curled against him, trying to pretend he was an uncomfortable chair while feeling insulted and awkward. One of his hands settled on her side, making her twitch as she stared at the fire.

"…Can you pass my tea, please?" She squeaked meekly, intent on ignoring him as much as possible. He complied, Zelda snatching the cup from his hand quickly.

She took a mouthful, sitting in silence as a few minutes passed; The last lap she had sat on was her father's, as a small child, and loathe as she was to think of the two men in the same reflection, she couldn't help the memory. _Two months to mourn the fallen;_ Her father had been the first to fall, and would be the last to be mourned as she realized, she'd never even paid her respects. His grave was contained in the grounds below, in what was once his favorite garden, along with the graves of the soldiers lost in the attack on the castle. Beside the lively flicker of the fire, whispers began to float upon the air, images flashing across her mind; They called to her, tugged and clawed at her trapped soul, like the demons of the dungeons below. The more she tried to ignore them, the stronger they became, as it steadily grew too much for her to process; The Dark Lord's invasive touch beginning to roam.

As his hand moved to her hip, her thoughts blurted out, though she knew it would likely anger him. "What time is it?" She almost snapped, craning her neck to look at him.

Ganondorf blinked, brows furrowed. "It couldn't be later than the seventh hour… Night has only just begun to fall." Running her tongue along her teeth, she took a nervous breath. "Can you… grant me a favour…?"

The Gerudo quickly became wary, his back straightening, as he growled his reply. "A favour? What the hell could you possibly have in mind?"

Zelda flinched, rubbing the side of her cup for comfort, not quite believing she was going to request such a thing. "I was hoping that you might… escort me about the grounds." She said quietly, looking down to avoid eye contact. "I wanted to pay my final respects to those that have passed… Consider it a wedding gift, if you must." Her ears twitched as he said something under his breath, chancing a glance at his face she could tell by his expression that he wasn't in the mood.

"I will take you in the morning, Zelda." He said dismissively, "It is cold outside; you'll catch your death."

The Princess twisted in his grasp, resolute—She'd been in a fragile state of mind over the last few days, and for some reason, she couldn't bare to wait; She needed to do it now. "Please… You can forget the hairbrush, I do not care…" She pleaded, facing him, "Do this for me now, and we will be wed in a single month. You gave me that time to mourn… indulge me, just this once."

The Dark Lord tilted his head, studying the look of anguish and desperation in her eyes; perhaps his legions were right, she had gone mad… And if that were the case, this might prove interesting. He let out a long sigh through his nose, deciding to play along and see where this went as he raised a hand to her face, brushing her flushed cheek.

"…Just this once, eh?" He smirked, narrowing his eyes. "Alright, my dear, I will _indulge_ you. Get up." Zelda's lips split into an eerie smile as she stood, splashing the remainder of her tea in the fire and setting the cup down, eager to go.

The Gerudo stood slowly, offering her his hand—As she took it, a rushing blur enveloped them, like the day he had caught her in the library. It made her feel nauseated, closing her eyes against the shift, but when they stopped, she felt something draped around her shoulders; A black velvet robe.

Blinking as she adjusted, wobbling for a moment on her legs, Zelda looked around to find that they now stood at the front of the castle, beneath the monolithic sculpture heralding the Royal Crest. Her crystalline gaze grew frantic, taking in every detail that seemed so estranged, breathing deep the dew-like scent of fresh, crisp air. The vision of stars peeking out from behind darkened grey clouds lay distorted beyond the golden barrier, a chill running down her spine as it reminded her of the death and rebirth she'd endured; _So that's what it was that pulled me back from the Heavens_. Her hand slipped slowly out of his, slender fingers gripping the soft fabric of the new garment for warmth, pulling it closed over her sensitive chest.

"Lead the way, Zelda… Or are you too busy star gazing?" Ganondorf's voice rumbled beside her, impatient.

The Princess jumped, remembering his company, and turned to him, "Oh, yes… I apologize, you know I haven't seen my home from the outside in quite a while. I never realized how easy it was to forget such a thing so quickly…" She gave him a saddened smile, gesturing to the western wall. "I believe it's this way…" With a stoic nod, he held a hand to her back, ushering her along at a slow pace; He missed the fire already, he was never fond of the cold. Moving off the cobblestone, Zelda couldn't help relishing the feel of earth shifting under her bare feet as they passed through the archway, moving into the older grounds.

Both of them paused as their destination came into sight, headstones scattered across the disturbed dirt by the dozen, erected in haste as some jutted out at strange angles. Ganondorf stood there only because Zelda had stopped, while the Princess, suddenly drained of enthusiasm, was struggling with the grim scene. These were the men who had died for her, each grave staining her hands with its blood. She swore she could see the fleeting specters, drifting lost between their world and the next as an eerie fog rolled over the dirt, illuminated by the filtered moonlight and golden glow of magic. She was not unlike them, though merely gifted with a body while they remained immaterial.

This place was cold, far colder than the night air, the chill of death soaking into these grounds as their breath fogged out before them. Occasionally, there lay an empty grave, unfilled; she wondered, with sorrow, what had happened to those bodies, graves waiting for them. In all likelihood, they had fed the beasts of Twilight, or become one of them. Far at the back, beneath a large marble statue carved with care and standing proudly above the others, lay her father at rest. Glancing sidelong at her companion, though, she reminded herself that it was more likely he was turning in his grave.

Steeling herself, Zelda clutched at the Gerudo's wrist for some support, as she cautiously took a few steps, surprised that Ganondorf allowed her to pull him along at her own pace. He was watching her intently, gauging her every action and reaction to ascertain just how far gone she was, if at all. A cruel thought breezed his mind, considering spitting on her father's final resting place—Not just for her reaction, but for the sheer satisfaction of the act.

The Princess gazed distantly at the headstones as they walked between them, her eyes scanning each name scrawled with so little care, all of them forgotten and unrecognized. Nobody would remember them, think fondly of them, knowing what they had achieved before a meaningless death; their families would've moved on by now, as each man faded from Hyrule's memory. Passing the edge of the forgotten graveyard, the odd pair would finally come to stand beneath the proud statue, standing in reverence as vines began to crawl across the marble, crisscrossing over a mournful epitaph and the engraved title: His Royal Majesty, King Dartanian Lysius Hyrule.

Zelda stood, silently running her fingers over the marble, pushing a few creeping vines aside. _Father…_ Her eyes were closed as she tried to reach out to him, mentally searching for his presence. It wasn't there. Perhaps the barrier was keeping his spirit at bay, preventing his return to her, or he had simply moved on, without the heart to watch his kingdom fall. _…Or maybe he has seen my actions, and abandoned me here, thinking I had given myself over to darkness, corrupted…_After willing him away, ashamed, for so long, she now wished, remorsefully, that his spirit had remained. What might he have thought of his beloved daughter, before passing into the Goddesses' care? She hadn't stopped to mourn him, to give a farewell, and now it seemed she'd left it too late; She truly was alone. Her body shivered, the sting of her throat becoming unbearable as she succumbed to another coughing fit, holding a hand at the base of her neck in false comfort to the burn.

The Gerudo scowled behind her, resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. "There, you have paid your respects. We're going to return to our quarters before your own stubbornness gets you killed." He was growing impatient with her illness as it was, kept awake at night by her pathetic coughing as she tossed and turned with her fevers. His expression only darkened when her head twisted sharply, glaring at him with glossed eyes, a pitiful sob caught between suppressed spluttering.

"…He isn't even here." She choked out, the words devastating her to speak them.

A cruel sneer crossed Ganondorf's lip, jerking her shoulder in annoyance. "You mean to tell me we came out here for nothing?" He growled viciously. "What a waste of my time."

Zelda hurled her weak fists at his chest, a knee-jerk reaction as her emotions of grief and despair overcame her. He caught the second one, tugging her closer to get a grip of her, before suddenly, her free hand swung around to slap him. To the shock of both of them, it connected, as their movements halted.

They stood a foot apart, staring at each other in disbelief; Zelda's heart fell with fear, her blood turned to ice in her veins. Taking a single step back, unconsciously, she saw his eyes flicker with rage and turned, taking off, fueled by instinct into a sprint. She didn't look back as he roared behind her, and despite her best efforts, he caught her within a few strides, clamping a large hand around her wrist painfully and spinning her on her feet. The action prompted another hit to his chest, and threw the both of them off balance with a struggle as the Princess tried desperately to wrench her arm free. As she took a step backwards, however, the earth crumbled beneath her, causing her to stumble and fall backwards; Ganondorf had lunged to grab her in that instant, and the momentum sent them both toppling, with a shriek, into an empty grave.

The Dark Lord's heavy frame pulled them into the loose dirt with a heavy thud, a blunt shock of pain coursing through them upon impact, falling beside one another, limbs strewn and tangled. Zelda cringed, her weakened body not fairing well from the fall, curling slightly in discomfort as her tears slipped free. Her bruising arm was gripped tightly as she was roughly jerked onto her back, the Gerudo moving quickly to trap her beneath him, pinning her. He was seething through his teeth as he glared down at her, his hand moving slowly around her neck; he truly considered snapping it like a twig and ending this farce, once and for all. The Princess trembled beneath him, tears rolling down the sides of her face as her breathing became hitched and ragged, feeling the dangerous fingers trace her jugular. At that moment, unbeknownst to either, the same thought ran through their minds—_This grave could soon become my own_.

Zelda was the first to speak, her voice soft and helpless. "I don't want to be alone…" Just a whisper between them, it hung in the air heavily, fog rolling from her lips.

Ganondorf's expression softened slightly, though he was still clearly angry, holding her with a hand ready to kill. Zelda's lip quivered, her mind dredging up every painful experience she'd endured at once, and her heart broke under the weight. "You promised…" She whimpered, "…You promised nothing like that would ever happen again… to protect me…" Her body shook, as she felt his grip lessen, unrestricting her breath.

The Gerudo stared at her hatefully; She was doing it again, breaking through his defenses and quelling his rage—With his own words, too. His jaw was tensed painfully as he tried to save it, build up his fury, but it was steadily slipping through his fingers, just out of reach. It seemed the sight of her like this held too much sway over his twisted mind; her fragile beauty shining through her discomfort and fear, shedding crystal tears, hair mussed and skin stained by the kiss of dirt. Her pain was like a drug, intoxicating his senses and satisfying his thirst for vengeance.

His hand shifted to her jaw, sweeping a thumb over the moist line her crying had left upon her cheek. "I told you that coming out here at this time of night would irritate your condition… You are ill, and the fever has played havoc on your mind, yet I took you anyway, did I not?" He growled, as if speaking to a child; If that didn't count as protectiveness to the fickle girl, then she'd just have to deal with it.

Zelda sniffled, nodding lightly.

The Gerudo's expression settled into a more usual one, "I keep you company, ensure your rest when ill, take you to a grave I deserve to spit on and the thanks I get an audacious slap to the face? Do you really think that your behaviour has been acceptable?" He questioned, regaining control.

Zelda bit her lip, settling, and shook her head weakly, "No… I… I apologize…"

Ganondorf closed his eyes, sighing with exasperation, determined to turn this into something useful as the last of his anger faded. Opening them slowly, he fixed golden irises upon hers. "Actions speak louder than words." He whispered, with a sinister undertone.

The Princess' eyes widened, hoping she was not headed for the dungeons again. "Please, Ganondorf, I'm sorry. You were right, I… I owe you more than that…" She stuttered pleadingly, starting to believe what she was saying. Her gaze wavered, following a strange urge that she hoped would set this whole mess right; tilting her head up, her lips would brush his cautiously as she brought her hands to his chest.

Feeling the willing lips upon his own, the Dark Lord stared at her with a hint of disbelief, a surge of victory washing through him as her smirked against her kiss. She was definitely mad, but in the best kind of way, he decided, claiming her mouth hungrily.

Zelda accommodated him as their situation advanced, finding an odd comfort in it—He was the only person she had, the only thing she knew… And giving him liberties he shouldn't have been entitled to made her feel less broken inside, less alone. _He still loves me,_ she thought desperately, feeling his touch slide down her stomach, _After everything, he must still love me…Or I would be dead, in this grave as a corpse and not a fiancé_. She'd struck him, with no punishment… _ran_ from him, with no punishment. Instead, an apology and a kiss had seemed to suffice, settling even his infamous temper right before her eyes, in a matter of moments. There was no other explanation in the Princess' cracking mind, and she used that thought to justify the stirrings of calm and familiarity he was invoking in her.

Her legs parted of their own accord as his fingers swept the inside of her thigh, bringing back the memories of the pleasure he could give her; She wanted to feel it. The Gerudo shifted, breaking their kiss and turning his head to nip at her neck, teeth tracing her collarbone as he realized the bite-mark still scarred her shoulder. _How lucky for her,_ he thought, _It seems her body reformed with the memory of her state that morning_. He'd be lying to say he wasn't slightly disappointed, missing the opportunity to spoil her again, but he was rather fond of that particular scar. It marked her as his.

"You're going to enjoy this far more than you should…" He purred, his breath fanning over her skin with warmth.

A strange laughter escaped her, soft and humble. "…I know." She admitted, draping her arms over his shoulders, letting herself enjoy an overdue embrace.

Once again, his hand found its prize, caressing her gently as a primal tingle tickled her spine. She remembered it well, the bloom of desire in her stomach; how sweet it had been before the pain had replaced it, the first time. A gasp escaped her, his masterful strokes bringing forth those fleeting glimpses of heaven as his lips traced her collarbone, pleasing any flesh they touched; She marveled at how he, so vicious and cruel, was also capable of being tender and gentle. It made him seem all the more human to her, not the monster the world thought he was; this was all the evidence she needed to know that she was correct—He was just a man.

Men were prone to change.

There was still hope for her... and for him. Even as her core gripped invasive fingers, Zelda's mind circled the concept of redemption, fueled by the lonely ache and the mounting pleasure. Her hand slipped down over his shoulder, tracing its way down the front of his tunic—He was too taken by lust to notice her touch move beneath his clothing, tracing the scar left by his execution; the Gerudo ignorant of the thoughts her actions were betraying. _How cruel this world has been to us both, that this is the only happiness we may ever afford…forced to seek it from each other…_ Those were the words that echoed in the woman's mind, twisted beyond outside recognition were she ever to voice them as her own, time passing quickly in a blur of growing passion.

When Zelda's attention again turned outwards, Ganondorf had shifted atop her, his wanton need pressing at her entrance, released from its material bonds. Her slender fingers brushed affectionately across his abdomen, as if trying to soothe the old wound. "Gently, this time, if you please…" She murmured, giving him an oddly fond look. Ganondorf paused for a moment, sparing a curious thought to the bipolar switching of moods he'd seen in her, just within a day; He didn't know what exactly was running through her mind, but it was obviously in his favour. _Don't question a good thing,_ He scolded himself mentally, any concern vanishing instantly as the sensation of entering her took hold of his full attention.

Zelda winced, bracing herself, and though it was uncomfortable as he pushed in, no real pain came of it. Nothing tore, she didn't feel sullied—_You're going to enjoy this far more than you should_; his words rang out in her mind with new meaning. She smiled lightly at the revelation, and it occurred to her that he may have purposely brought her back without her maidenhead, sparing her of having the painful experience again. Then he'd misled her about it, not wanting her to be aware of his mercy.

_How else would he have known to say that to me, just now?_

The very notion warmed her, and she took it as affirmation of his affections for her; It was all making sense. He'd loved her, and had indeed been hurt deeply by her actions. Feeling betrayed, he'd punished her severely for toying with him in such a way, but despite this, he still cared about her—Which he would have resented himself for. Unable to escape his want for her, he had killed the Hero, preventing their separation without showing his weakness. Slowly, he was trying to rebuild what they had while she had been acting, whether she wanted that or not, isolating her until she had no other option but to marry him.

In Zelda's head, all the pieces seemed to click together perfectly; _Just like the sketches,_ she analogized, _Evolving from beauty to horror, though the want was the same throughout_. She smiled at him, content, as they set their pace. "Thank you…" She breathed, finishing with her thoughts and letting her head loll back, hair splayed in the dirt.

The Gerudo rumbled lustfully against her neck, smirking at how vastly different this was to their first sexual encounter, "You are most welcome, Zelda…"

His knees dug into the earth, his thrusts finding no resistance in the ready Princess as her legs twitched and brushed the sides of his hips. Resting his weight upon a muscled forearm, his free hand roamed down to move the hem of the silken slip, grasping her hip and pulling her body onto him further. He grunted as it tore a delicious sound from her throat. Ganondorf watched her serene face contort with desire, the corners of her icy pink lips twitching with pleasure, unrestrained.

Hell, he wished her father's spirit _were_ here, and then he could see it too… His lovely daughter, stripped of even her own sanity, and writhing underneath the man who took it, in the dirt of an unknown soldier's grave, willing. She _wanted_ him to fuck her, and that fact more than made up for his earlier disappointment in her virginity not having returned; She still felt as fresh as if it had, either way. If only he had realized the kind of joy she could bring him in this way, through her suffering and her pleasure, he would have planned this from the very beginning.

Her fingers were tugging at the ends of his curled hair, entangling themselves beneath the thorned crown that held his fiery tresses in place, her sweet voice moaning hot against his ear. The Gerudo drove her harder, faster, running his free hand up her side and to the supple flesh of her chest, the slip moving easily in his wake, freed by her arching back. Zelda's legs lifted, wrapping around his form as their tryst grew feverish, matching his pace and moving against him to intensify the sensation—She could feel it building again, as he buried his face into her neck once more to place burning kisses to the skin; Each movement increasing that familiar pressure behind her hips, raising her spirit upwards in preparation for the glorious fall into carnal bliss.

She could feel his toned muscle flexing and rippling beneath thick skin, her palm still pressed to the scar upon his torso, and it appealed to her in a way she couldn't quite place, adding to her enjoyment. The act seemed to change them, make the two of them unlike themselves in a way, she realized; her ragged gasps had turned into breathy pleas, and her name passed his lips often, murmured lustfully against her pointed ear. Her fingers twisted forcefully into his hair as it finally hit her, that wave of warmth and ecstasy, sending her falling away from the harsh world in the culmination of mutual desire; Their bodies twitched and writhed against each other, spent and satiated.

Zelda lost all will to move as she stared up at the sky, hidden behind the golden light, clinging lazily onto her dark lover and catching her breath. They were contained, safe, in their own little world with nothing but the other. _It's almost romantic, in an abstract and bizarre way,_ She thought, as he moved off of her, taking her rag-doll like body onto his lap as the world rushed passed in a blur. Shudders flew through her, aftershocks, making her feel light headed and giddy even in the transportation; warmth washed over her skin, as the light changed, replaced by the gentle flicker of an ever-burning fire.

They had returned to his chambers, sitting upon the bed, and she felt the first calls of sleep tugging at her heavy eyelids as she sat, cradled against him. He seemed to be in a much better mood now, she noticed, as Ganondorf lowered her gently onto the bed, pulling the covers aside for the both of them to become comfortable. He was usually more concerned with hygiene, though with a content sigh, the Gerudo settled onto his pillow lazily, not caring for the fact that they were both still clothed and littered with dirt.

Had the Princess only known that, at that very moment, the Hero was speaking with the hallowed Sages of old, it would not have seemed romantic at all.

**A/N: Fans of Link, breath. Rest easy. He's alive.**

**I really toyed with the idea of him ACTUALLY being dead, but I just couldn't see that happening, really. Ganondorf in this was captured before he actually conquered Hyrule and whatnot in OoT, so, it occurred to me that he wouldn't know where the master sword even was, or how dangerous it might be. He's sneaky and underhanded, and he's pretty meticulous for planning, and I don't think he'd fly out and face a risk like that head on without seriously considering his options. **

**Especially since TP was all his doing from **_**behind the scenes**_**, why reveal himself to a serious threat that doesn't know he's there? …At least, that Ganon thinks doesn't know he's there. But on the upside, I have a plan to make Link's survival into more angst, because I really hate the whole 'he's going to save her' thing… But, if you recall the prophetic dream segment I did, and the cutscenes, you know I'm following the game events. This whole thing started as just a neat idea to explore the characters.**

**Anyway, sorry for scaring you with the toe, and thanks to everyone for reading and sticking with it, and to all your awesome reviews—I also added a few more line breaks to make it slightly easier to read in the chunky parts.**


	11. Revelations

Two weeks had passed without event, and Zelda, though overcoming a refreshed bout of her illness after visiting the graves, had not strayed far from the warmth and security of Ganondorf's rooms. Her body had healed and her mind had settled; with the wedding fast approaching, the Princess had made peace with the arrangement and now viewed it as the final stage in moving on.

The Dark Lord was especially pleased with her acquiescent nature of late, rewarding her accordingly with escorted trips to the library and the occasional walk about the castle and its grounds—Zelda made a point of avoiding the graveyard, usually babbling something or rather about 'poor souls, wandering lost'. Ganondorf didn't press the matter, and took the mad sounding chatter as a good omen; glimpses of Zelda's tattered psyche, every so often, kept the Gerudo appraised of his control over his favorite toy, and proved that his conditioning was working. Without precious Wisdom to guide her and ravel the frayed sleeves of her sanity, it seemed, the Princess was much easier to mould.

Zant's only contact to his God was served by the same method as Zelda was privy to: talking through a reflection in a vanity mirror—The Twili, who had reportedly set a skeletal demon onto the Hero before shattering the Mirror of Twilight, now resided safely within his own realm. For Ganondorf, everything was going according to plan. Even as his legions provided him the details of Link's efforts to rebuild the entrance to Zant's world, he was more than confident that the Twili King's impending death would serve as justice to all, satiating the Hero and the Imp. It would sever any tie the Dark Lord had to any wrong doing, and if he played his cards right, he would be crowned King, unscathed. He had even toyed with the idea watching Zant's death by mystical means, just for kicks—Now that he had Zelda, rebirthed by his own blood in part, he could use her body as a host and anchor his being into the world of Light, cutting out the Twili King's purpose all together.

For the moment, the prematurely triumphant Gerudo King stalked through the halls of the grand castle, a cocky smirk seemingly permanent upon his weathered features, intent on returning to his chambers. Zelda would be returning from the library shortly, and he'd had an interesting thought—The Princess had once asked him why he did not read as she did, though he shared her interest for literature, to which he had replied that he hadn't the time. Now, it seemed, he had all the time in the world, and the memory of her suggestion had convinced him that he should indulge himself in a good book today. He'd all but forgotten what it felt like to have true leisure time, and had spent the first half of the day bored out of his skull, instinctively shadowing minions and barking orders; it was a few hours before it occurred to him that he could be doing other things. He shook his head, still feeling slightly foolish about the whole epiphany; _I'm going to work myself to death, one of these days_.

Finally, he came upon the large ornate doors, pushing them open easily with a light touch, evidence of his strength in an action that would trouble even the strongest soldier to replicate. An instant rush of warmth breezed his skin, welcoming and inviting from the fire as the smell of incense floated upon the air—Though nobody else might put it together, it was these elements that made the room his, the heat and smell of his homeland. Within a few steps, he had already begun removing his armour, unclipping and untying each layered plate to place them upon the mannequin. When relieved of his furred tunic as well, he stretched lazily, carelessly tugging the thorned crown from his hair as he was left in a light cotton shirt of Gerudo make. Shaking the curls out, waved of red tumbled free, and the Dark Lord breathed a sigh of reprieve. Golden eyes scanned the room as he briefly considered a spell to make undressing easier, before simply shrugging and turning to enter his bedchamber.

Coming to stand before the bookshelf that held his personal collection, idle fingers gripped his bearded chin as his eyes roamed the titles, looking for something of interest. He didn't really know what he was in the mood for, and he'd read each of these volumes at least once before; Perhaps he could read one of the books Zelda would return with, instead. Glossing across the row in front of him, though, something seemed amiss. His brows furrowed, pulling a few books out of place to check behind them.

It wasn't there.

_Where the hell did I put the blasted thing?_ He thought frantically, checking the rows above and below in the same fashion—His sketchbook was nowhere to be found. _It can't be gone…I put it here, I know I did_.

Recklessly, he started ripping books from the shelves, sending them scattering to the stone floor. He hated that sketchbook, but it was important to him; It was the only thing he'd held on to, a constant reminder, in black and white, of who he was. Slowly, he backed away from the bookshelf, staring at it with fingers twitching as the door slowly creaked open to reveal the Princess, arms full of new volumes. She scurried in, placing the books on the bed without sending him so much as a glance, lost in her own thoughts.

"Hello, Ganondorf..." She chimed as she went about sorting through her haul, before pausing, taking notice of the distressed state of things. "…Ganondorf?" Her voice came softly, nervously, behind him, causing his fingers to twitch again.

"…Where is it?" He asked, his back to her still, as Zelda grew concerned. Something was seriously wrong.

Her crystalline gaze wavered over his form as she stepped closer, reaching a tentative hand out to his shoulder, "Where is… what?"

No sooner did her fingertips brush his shoulder did something hard knock her off her feet and careening onto the floor, the impact wracking her frame with disorienting pain. "I know you have it." He growled above her, leering over her crumpled form with a dangerous gleam to his eye.

Zelda could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears, as slowly her jaw began to throb and her eye watered—She realized after a moment that he had backhanded her. _The sketchbook,_ she remembered, taking in the fact that he had practically ripped the bookshelf apart searching for it. She had completely forgotten to return it to its place, staring up at the man with wide eyes; _How could I forget to put such a thing back? What is he going to do to me?_ "I…I didn't m-mean to… The drawer…" She offered weakly, gesturing to her end table, where the book lay hidden still.

The Gerudo's eyes immediately shot toward it, stepping over her with a heavy boot landing beside her head as if she was no longer there and tearing the drawer out of its holds, throwing it carelessly aside after snatching the tattered book. Zelda, watching him, slowly began to pick herself up, unsteady as her equilibrium returned. Crouching to stand, she saw his tense muscles relax as he stared at the book, as if affirming that it was really there. The Gerudo inclined his head, freezing her with a vicious glare and holding the book in front of her.

"You do not touch this." He growled through clenched teeth, slowly. "Do not _ever_ touch this."

The Princess rose to her full height, nodding unconsciously, as the man tore his eyes away. _Is he…ashamed of it…?_ She thought, suspicious of his reaction, _It must be precious to him…_She pressed he fingers to her tender cheek, wincing as she could feel the bruise coming up. "I'm… sorry. It was only by accident that I found it… I never intended to hide it from you." She offered weakly, tugging at the fabric of her dress as her eyes traced the cracks of the stone beneath her. She fully expected to be struck again for even speaking.

Ganondorf stared at the small book with intensity enough to set it aflame, jaw tensing; Why hadn't he simply removed it before allowing her residence in his chambers? With an angry sigh, he flicked her another venomous glance before stepping away, walking with a slow gait to stand in front of the fire. As Zelda peered up at him, her heart dropped. "No, don't!" She called out behind him, holding out a hand pleadingly, "Don't burn it…"

The Gerudo scowled, shaking his head lightly with a scoff. "I'm not going to burn it, you foolish woman." He hissed over his shoulder, "I'd sooner set you alight for discovering it… I don't care what happens between us, you should never find yourself privileged enough to see the world through my eyes." He leaned a muscled forearm upon the mantle of the fireplace, turning murderous eyes upon her fragile frame. "…But I suppose there's no helping that now, is there?"

The Princess shuddered under the gaze, subtle poison seeping through his words as she retracted her hand, curling a fist uselessly against her chest. _I suppose I was right,_ she thought helplessly, _He was likely to flay me alive for seeing those pictures_. Taking a slow breath, her mind raced to find the right words. "No… I have seen them… Every one…" She licked her lips, knowing she was likely to be punished. "They were beautiful. Even I have never seen so much of my country, depicted in such a way… After seeing them, I understood why you had felt so strongly that you deserved this land, for your people's sake." Zelda took hold of the side of her dress, stepping toward the fire cautiously. He looked as if he wanted to bite her, tensing up as she drew near; _He probably feels vulnerable, like I've seen right through him, and into his soul…A soul he never wanted me to know existed_. She offered him a rueful smile, bowing her head slightly. "…It truly was a privilege to see such a thing, whether I was ever supposed to or not. I…Do not regret it, either, no matter my punishment."

The Dark Lord was dangerously calm, his golden eyes following her every movement like that of a predator. "No, of course you don't." He seethed, roughly grabbing her arm and slinging her into one of the plush armchairs, circling around the front of her. "Just another clue as to how you might manipulate things around you. Anything to make this life more comfortable for yourself… No matter the cost. Isn't that just like a Hylian?" He spat accusingly, staring her down as she shrunk back into the chair.

Zelda could see something changing in him, something human—Anger, hatred, hurt and memories, whipping like a sandstorm through his golden eyes. She shook her head lightly, panic setting in. "I just wanted to understand you. We are to be married soon enough; we have a lifetime, perhaps more, to spend with each other... It's the Goddesses Will, why else would any of this have come to pass? If I can understand you, then I can come to terms with the past… And the mistakes of old can be rectified. We may even be able to ensure that they never come to pass again! That is what I choose to believe and that is why I have no regret for my actions…" Her voice tapered off as she saw no change in the man's expression, worried that her words may have fallen on deaf ears.

The Gerudo settled a hand on the arm of the chair, leaning in close to her. "The last time you claimed to understand me, Princess, you sent the Hero out to retrieve that which might've killed me soon after."

Zelda bit her lip, her heartbeat drumming within her ears. "I lied." She whispered, "I understood nothing but the legends from my childhood, and I thought that I was right to. I misheard the whispers of the Gods…"

As Ganondorf drew back, he cast her a damning look, baring his canines in disgust. "You heard nothing. No Hylian, no mortal man on this earth, has heard the words of the Gods…" He hissed, tilting his head with a cruel leer. "…Pointed ears or not."

Suddenly, his posture shifted, as he paced before her. "But, Zelda, my dear, do you know what I learned when the Sages held me, through a rigged trial, and read out my crimes against humanity, before I'd committed them?" He questioned rhetorically, his fingers twitching upon the tattered cover of the book. "I had spoken amongst Gods. I had heard them; I alone with my rounded imperfect ears, and more than that, they had heard me. They granted me the power to rule as I pleased, to take what was owed to me; that was the crime which I had yet to commit, and it was that which prompted my execution."

The way he said those words, bit out each one with resolute truth, made Zelda's skin crawl; it chilled her very blood. Her body trembled slightly under his gaze, making her gut twist with guilt. Slowly, she found her voice, speaking quietly to hide the cracking in her usually lyrical tone. "Yet, you survived… by Din's blessing. The will of the Goddesses was done, and here you stand today, as you were clearly meant to… Forgive them of their error, the Sages; forgive me, for you are blessed, and we all have overlooked it in our misunderstanding."

Glancing up at him, it seemed he was struggling with his thoughts, looking at her as if he was sorry for his outburst. As soon as the Gerudo noticed this, however, the expression was quickly hidden behind his usual scowl. "I will not forgive anyone. For the sins against my people, I demand payment in blood, drop for drop, and nothing less will satiate me." He hissed evasively, turning away from her to be seated with a slump.

_He reminds me of a child throwing a tantrum, sometimes,_ Zelda mused to herself, watching his actions, _Though, despite his anger for his own treatment, he almost never claims vengeance for himself…He always reverts back the Gerudo people as a whole…why?_ Her crystalline gaze roamed him curiously, noting how even throughout his tirade, he still clutched the tattered sketchbook desperately. Tucking a dirty blonde lock behind her ear, she toyed with the hair twisting it around her finger as she considered just asking. He might hit her again, but she had to know, and chances were he'd reveal it in another rant if she provoked him with such a thing. _Then again, he may also just lock me away…Or perhaps even kill me; it isn't like he can't revive me whenever he pleases. _She sighed, her hand dropping listlessly to her lap. "I suppose my apologies mean nothing to you, either, then…" She whispered sadly, her gaze turning to the fire.

The Dark Lord sat in silence, not bothering to look at her. Everything said and done between them was playing through his mind, his gaze solely upon the book in his hand, as slowly fingers moved to open it. That nerve she continued to find in him, somehow, striking it again and again, was raw at this point. Turning the page, the vision of the castle he once knew, perfectly captured, timeless in the ink, stared back at him. Something wound tight within his black heart snapped, as his fingertips traced the sketched lines.

Much to Zelda's surprise, he spoke, without harshness. "Not to me, Zelda. But for them, it means the world." The Princess's eyes widened, looking at him to try and verify that she'd heard him correctly. Furrowing her brows, her features morphed into a questioning look. "…Not to you…?" Ganondorf glanced up at her, his golden eyes lingering on the bruise already marring her soft cheek. After a moment he gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head and holding up the book in a careless gesture. "You don't even realize what you've seen, do you?"

He seemed eerily calm, though he lacked dangerous intent—Zelda had never seen this before in him, and it scared her somewhat in the fact that she had very little idea of how to deal with it. "I don't… understand…" She stuttered, unsure of what to say.

The Gerudo's gaze returned to the book, grimacing. "No, I suppose you couldn't without seeing the missing pages… I was right to rid myself of them…Even I didn't want to see, after a time. It's the reason why the rest of this book remains empty." He sighed, turning the page, apparently lost in memories. "…It didn't change anything, though, did it?" He scoffed, rubbing his temple as he leaned upon his hand. "No matter how adept one becomes at the art of deception, one can never truly lie to themselves. Perhaps that's why I've taken to you; your fascinating little evolution into the woman sitting beside me."

The Princess blinked, trying to take in what he was saying, in this odd confession. For all her wisdom, she was struggling to understand exactly what he was getting at. "The last pages… I remember, every page I turned held more anger than the one before it. But, you are so insistent upon keeping such anger, and admittedly, somewhat justified to do so. I do not understand why those sketches I did not see would make any difference…?" She couldn't help but be honest; Zelda was secretly thrilled that he, the guarded and distantly cold man she knew, was opening up to her in some way. Unexpected and somewhat concerning though it may be, it was positive progress that could prove invaluable in swaying him from this path, and sparing the innocents of the world a hideous wrath. She couldn't hide the shock that swept across her face when he shot her a defeated look; though unable to tell whether it was because he didn't want to tell her, or didn't want to admit it to himself.

Taking a slow breath, the Gerudo focused on the fire, reflecting upon something. "Because that anger that you saw, preserved in every stroke, blossomed into raw hatred." He began, his tone regretful. "I tore them out, because to look at them reminded me too harshly of the truth. I was no longer acting on behalf of my people, or their needs, shortly before I was captured… It wasn't their hate. It was mine."

A moment of silence passed, as Zelda finally started to understand. "Your intentions and want for our lands shifted; from noble to selfish…" She whispered between them, rethinking everything they had discussed of the past. "…And your greed damned them all." A strange sense of betrayal wormed its way into her stomach, as her features twisted into a frown. "And yet, you champion yourself as their avenger, all this time? You deserved to be imprisoned. You lied to me." She hissed, a forgotten anger slowly returning.

The Dark Lord nodded with a rueful smile, unaffected by the change in Zelda's opinion. "You are correct, I did deserve it. But they did not deserve to reap the punishment for my actions… I knew that I was changing; every day I could feel my heart growing more twisted by my obsession, though I blinded myself to it at the time. One of my closest sisters used to warn me of what I was slowly becoming, when she and I were still close, but I never listened." He turned to a later page, the art soiled by his own ambition. "It was she who, upon finally cutting ties with me, informed me that all the evidence lay scrawled within this very book. I told her that she was a fool… But, Nabooru, she always had a way for knowing the hearts of those around her."

Ganondorf's expression was nothing short of remorseful, as he continued. "I tried to convince myself that I was still justified in my actions; that I still cared for my people's lives and was pursuing my goals for them. But, every time I opened this book, the truth stared back at me, quite literally, in black and white. I've never forgiven myself for trading the Gerudo for my own gain… So, I tore out the pages, thinking I could somehow reverse the feeling..." He sighed, closing the book with a sharp snap of the cover, "It didn't change anything."

Setting the sketchbook on the side table between them, his gaze returned to the Princess, who had softened some after further explanation. Zelda, despite her anger at this revelation, saw something in his eyes that she'd been searching for: humanity. It was just a flicker, but there it was, without a shadow of a doubt; the man in the guise of a monster. Here he sat, openly confessing the wrongs of the past, remorseful and pained by the memory. Much to her chagrin, she realized she didn't know how to judge him—She had been right, in the first instance, to hate him, and yet, she was also right to forgive him, and offer redemption. "If that is the case, then what right do you have to demand Hylian blood for the sins against your people? You owe them just as much as I, if not more." She spat venomously, glaring at him.

The Gerudo chuckled darkly, reclining in his chair as he studied her; He could see the Zelda he had subdued sparking back to life within her, if only slightly. "I betrayed them in the last age… But everything I do today, I do in remembrance of them. I am paying my debt to them, searing their memory into the very landscape, and taking revenge not for myself or what was done to me, but to the Gerudo before and after my time." He tilted his head, crimson tresses tumbling over his shoulder. "I act independently of them; for them, though no longer a part of them. To a Hylian such as yourself, I admit, I can be viewed as a force of darkness… A shadow in your world of light. But, that should never give your kind the right to class my kin as the same, by association. If no one will punish you for such a thing, than I am the only one left with the power to do so, whether I deserve the privilege or not…"

A cruel smirk spread across his lips, as it seemed his former self had returned, putting up the guards and an air of superiority as he lifted his fist, bearing the holy mark. "Though, clearly, Din believes I do."

Zelda stared at him, knowing he was correct; she felt a twinge of despair twisting in her gut, as the dim flicker of the fire played upon his shadowed features. _There's nothing more I can do,_ she thought, resigned to defeat, _He's not going to relent… this __**is**__ his redemption._ And, perhaps it truly was; a task set to him by the Gods as both a punishment and atonement for his own hubris, that she shared a part of. He would have vengeance—Not for himself, only for his people—And would then have to face himself, learning to love that which he had hated: Herself, and everything she symbolized. _…And so, Wisdom reconciles Power, _She concluded, _which is why Courage was no longer needed, and was expelled from the equation._ Zelda nodded to herself, reflecting upon her epiphany from that day in the library; She finally had it, the puzzle in her mind was complete.

The Princess rose from her seat, smoothing her dress, and looked upon the man destined to destroy everything she knew by the Gods bidding. "It would seem so." She uttered, bowing her head slightly as she walked past him. "…Do whatever you feel. I cannot stop you, nor will I pretend that I have any ability to do so… We're just as damned as each other, in the end."

Ganondorf frowned, craning his head to watch her as she picked a book up from the bed. "And where do you think you're going?" He asked, irked by her tone. Zelda simply shot him a small smile over her shoulder, taking a few steps to open the door.

"Nowhere. Even when the world is ashes beneath your feet, I will still be here." And with that, she closed the door behind her, leaving him alone once more.

**A/N: Short one again, but it's wrapping up now. Only two more chapters or so, and it'll be finished. The next ones should be longer, and pretty chaotic for me to write. Also, you'll see some familiar cutscenes pop up, and I tried to incorporate some nostalgia in here, if anyone noticed. It's subtle, but there's some allusion to future lines in the game, which I really like, as well as an OoT reference. (Because I love Nabooru.) **

**Now I guess it's pretty obvious why history was especially avoided between Ganny and Zelda. But I felt this was important, showing the hint of humanity buried deep in Ganon—If you noticed, in TP, he was more on about being 'blessed' than getting the other triforce pieces, so I wanted to give a new spin to possible motivation seeing how different he is from OoT Ganon, with a hint of WW style. (hence, the monologue.)**

**Anyway, more soon. Thanks much!**

**PS: To those of you who've been reading so far, I have now gone back and fixed the chunky bits, so more paragraphs, and I've separated speech to make it easier to follow. Thanks to those reviewers who pointed out the problems!**


	12. Place Your Bets

Whispers spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Dark Lord's beastly army, from the fields to the lands of Faron and Eldin, and morale was dropping rapidly; gossip of the Bulbin King's second defeat lay ready on the tongues of even the lowly bokoblin grunts.

It was only a short time before the wedding of their master was to be released to the public. Each beast had stepped up their efforts to be a public nuisance while awaiting the event, unaware of the Dark Lord's plans for Zant. But, many a monster had seen the Hero return from the heavens, triumphant, and as the boy crossed the desert once more, mirror shards gathered, a seed of doubt had been sown among the minions.

Within the confines of the castle, down below in the abandoned cells, sat a few minions about a table, engaged in games of chance. With their beastly language they chattered, throwing chipped rupees and cards about, their voices echoing around the cavernous place, drowning out the occasional drip. A large Moblin with hulking, tattooed arms slammed a few cards down in frustration. "I'm out." He grumbled, glaring at the Dark Nut beside him, who obviously held a winning pair.

A slim Bokoblin leaned against the mossed stone of the wall, dressed only in a tattered, patchwork vest. Taking a piece of chalk of behind his piggish ear, he tapped it upon a small flake of tree bark. "A'right, come on… Zant to fight; Who's takin' bets?" He called with a gravelly drawl.

The Moblin growled, scratching himself inappropriately. "Argh… That slip of a brat against Zant? Feh…" He snorted, peering at the ceiling. "…Twenty on the Twili."

The Dark Nut scraped his winnings from the center of the table, casting the Bokoblin an odd look and shaking his head, helmet tapping his shoulder plates. "Fifty on the kid to win."

The Iron knuckle, who had spread the rumours of Zelda's instability, piped up, nervously setting his cards down. "You're joking." He whispered, glancing toward the stairwell. "You can't bet against the Master's allies! How do you know he's not listening?"

The Dark Nut chuckled, leaning back on the legs of his chair. "Does it really matter? I have seen the Hero take three of my brethren without so much as a scratch…Besides him taking out King Bulbin twice. Poor blighter still hasn't fully recovered…" He mused, taking new cards from the deck. "As far as I am concerned, the Master _should_ be listening, instead of playing dress up with the Mad Queen. He might realize that he's underestimated our opposition."

A murmur of unrest followed the bold statement, the Bokoblin bookkeeper throwing him an incredulous glance. "…Feelin' a bit adventurous there, aren't ya?"

The Dark Nut simply shrugged, giving the others a cocky tilt of his helmet. "Adventurous? Sure… Since I'm feeling so 'adventurous', I'll place another fifty on the kid to not only win this fight, but make it all the way to the Master himself."

The Moblin glared at him, straightening. "Shut ye'r damn mouth before ya doom us all." He threw a few more rupees onto the table, sneering. "There's no way the Master 'imself is gonna' face that brat. The Hero doesn't even know he's b'hind all this, even if Zant did get beat, and I tell ya, that aint gonna' happen."

Setting his chair back upon all fours, the Dark Nut leaned armoured elbows on the table, waving a finger. "That's not what I heard. Soon as Zant's done for, the Hero'll be on his way here in no time at all."

A silence fell as the next round began, until the Bokoblin called out, scrawling the wagers upon the bark. "Anyone else?" His beady eyes rose to the Iron Knuckle. "Whatta' 'bout you, eh? Sweet on the Mad Queen 'nough to put ya rupees where ya mouth is?"

The Iron knuckle shifted, giving a sigh. "Sorry, but unlike some of us, I don't have a death wish." He muttered, casting the armoured warrior a sidelong glance.

Another chuckle came from the overconfident Dark Nut, raising a hand to get the bookkeeper's attention. "Just for that… A further fifty for the Master's defeat."

The Moblin slammed a fist on the table, rattling the rupees. "That's just fool's talk!" He roared, glaring over at the Bokoblin. "No more bets! Anyone place a bet like that after 'im, I'll gut 'em myself!"

Despite the protests of the loyal Moblin, and many more like him, such bets were taking place among many of the camps, scattered about the land. It seemed that, like the Dark Nut, quite a few of the Dark Lord's minions could see the writing on the wall. Those who hadn't deserted the ranks entirely, stayed out of sheer stupidity, blind loyalty, or to make a tidy profit by the end of this.

Zant would not have shared the concerns of the beasts, even had he heard them. The Twili had convinced himself that, with the blessed power of a God bestowed upon him, he was practically invincible—even if the Hero got the upper hand, he would only be revived again and again until he achieved victory. In the mind of the False King, the idea of his master using him as a scapegoat, betraying his most loyal follower, was unthinkable. It would have shocked him to find that such wagers were being made in the first place… but the Twili would have been absolutely horrified if he ever found out that he was not the betting favorite of the majority.

But, as the world outside teemed with surreptitious opinions and predictions, Hyrule's Princess was held high above the whispers, wrapped securely in the white silks of a wedding dress as her reflection stared back at her. A ghostly seamstress, formed of black and wispy shadow, knelt at her side, picking at the fabric and pinning the final touches in place. The bodice was embroidered with a floral pattern, leaves and lilies, as Zelda had requested; just on inside of her hip was material bunched to replicate the flower, with a gem at its center, and layered silks draped about in cascading waves beneath. A long train of lace and subtle, shimmering stones fell behind her, the same gems lining the hems and a sweetheart bust line. It was a gorgeous dress, and she wore it with beauty and elegance enough to make any bride, the world over, seethe with jealousy.

Zelda couldn't help but stare at the sight of herself. It seemed odd, out of place on her body, and yet, it suited her perfectly. _Perhaps it is simply the fact that I, of all people, am wearing it,_ she considered, arching a slender brow at the reflection; truthfully, she had never given any thought to marriage, knowing that she was likely to be paired with a stranger at her father's whim. Any suitor she had been presented with was quickly dismissed, and with a small smile she recalled the King's lectures to her after she'd made a bit of a name for herself, as a shrew. After a time, the court had resigned to the fact that she would be crowned regent long before a worthy suitor caught the Princess' eye.

It was difficult for her to wear a dress that brought back such fresh memories. Never again would she hear a lecture, or be paired with some snobbish nobleman with an upturned, pointy nose; forced to dance with them at a gala or ball like some wind-up doll. That life was dead and buried, and she found she actually regretted not indulging in it more—All the time she'd spent arguing with her father, and tucking herself away in the library, lost in the pages of another time… She'd completely missed her own life, in a sense. Squandering precious little moments; for every time she'd reread a history book, she could've been riding amongst the fields with the King. For all their arguments, they could've simply laughed together.

Her thoughts were torn away from her suddenly, as a pin was stuck painfully into her hip, pricking her. "Ow!" She cried, jerking away from the shadowed seamstress with a glare. "Would you please be more careful? I do happen to have a physical form." She chastised.

The seamstress peered up at her with empty sockets, speaking with an ethereal tone that echoed without the movement of her lips. "My apologies, Mad Queen…" She uttered without emotion, reaching out to continue her work. It was, after all, the only purpose to her existence.

Zelda blinked, brows furrowing, as she stared down at the ghostly woman. "…Mad Queen?" Her lip twitched in distaste. "I most certainly am not _mad_, and I'll thank you to keep such opinions to yourself." She spat, heaving a sigh as she straightened. _How dare she, _she thought, watching the specter work in the mirror, _I may get a tad emotional of late, but that's no cause for such wild accusations. _

After a few minutes, the seamstress' hands stilled, and she stood, stepping aside. "My task… Is complete…" She whispered, giving a slight bow before her wisplike body faded from existence. The Princess briefly wondered what had become of the seamstress, sparing a sad thought to the fact that her short existence was menial, though she seemed sentient. What was curious, though, was how fleeting her empathy had become; any pity for the creature soon faded, to be replaced by other thoughts, as she inspected the dress, turning in place.

Zelda smiled at herself in the mirror, giggling to herself. "Well, aren't I just the image of a perfect bride." She was rather proud of herself, and a guilty thrill of anticipation ran through her; Ganondorf's face would be priceless when he saw her. Bringing her fingertips up to her cheek, she lightly pressed the spot were he had struck her. The bruise was almost gone, thankfully, but it was still tender; a small blemish of darkened skin traced her delicate jaw line. At least it would be gone by the actual wedding ceremony. It couldn't be more than a week or so away, now—She had shortened the timeframe in her moment of desperation, she recalled, though she couldn't remember whether Ganondorf had taken her up on it or not.

Stepping carefully to avoid treading on the dress, she gripped the soft fabric, hitching it up as she headed for the doors. _I suppose there's no harm in asking him, _she thought, gripping the ornate handle and pulling the door aside, _Besides, I want to see him speechless, for once_.

Entering the hall, she drew a few looks from the Iron Knuckles on patrol; exchanging looks, the rumour of the Mad Queen would only grow stronger after this—Wearing a wedding dress though it was not her wedding day. The Princess gave them a curt nod, continuing on her way with an extra bounce to her step. Something about the dress made her feel like a walking masterpiece, and her good mood only amplified the glow. Her feet were still bare beneath the silks, and though it might have bothered her once, Zelda had grown used to the absence of shoes. She could feel the red carpet underfoot with every step, soft and welcoming, and it almost made the thought of wearing shoes upon such luxuries seem asinine. _Why lay fine carpet in all the halls just for decoration? Perhaps Ganondorf was right; Hylian taste is needlessly decadent_.

Her thoughts continued to wander aimlessly as she tottered down the halls, humming herself a long forgotten lullaby. It wasn't long before she arrived at their shared quarters, entering quietly with the naughty intent of surprising her fiancé so that he couldn't hide his reaction. Holding the hem high off the ground, the Princess tiptoed across the floor, swaying with great balance as she took long, stealthy strides, grinning like a child. The door to the bedchamber was closed as she sidled up to it; _Perfect_, she thought, hearing the Gerudo's voice inside. But before she burst in, she blinked, realizing something was amiss. _Wait…Who is he talking to?_

Frowning, she leaned up against the door, pressing an ear close to eavesdrop. There were two voices that she could make out, Ganondorf's, and the other sounded suspiciously familiar. It took her a moment to place it, until the words matching it ran through her head; _Surrender or die_. Her eyes widened. Zant.

Inside the room, seated at a vanity, the Dark Lord conversed with the Twili's reflection in the mirror. "…I do not care for your excuses; I have told you before that this was a possibility. You are more than capable of dealing with the assault." The Gerudo rumbled, rapping his fingers impatiently on the wood and giving his follower a pointed glare.

Zant's image blurred and flickered behind the glass as he twitched, shaking his head. "I am sure, with your power, Master, I will be able to defend myself… But why did you not warn me earlier that he was gathering the shards? I could've used the time to prepare—"

Ganondorf scowled. "Do not question me of such things." He growled, baring his teeth. "I had no need to tell you before now, Zant, because I had faith enough in your ability to handle yourself. Do you really intend to suggest that I was wrong in doing so?" A fiery brow raised, challenging the Twili to say otherwise.

"No, My Lord." Came the swift reply. "Forgive me, if I gave such an impression in my insolence." The False King shifted in place, smoldering eyes downcast.

"I didn't think so." Ganondorf smirked, leaning forward to lace his hands before his face, resting on his elbows. "He'll be there within the hour, according to reports on his movements. The imp, too; She'll be after the power of the Fused Shadow, so be prepared for any tricks. Other than that, Zant, I trust you will end this pitiful farce of heroism once and for all." It didn't matter if Zant lost or the Hero did, in this battle; the Gerudo would emerge the victor of a war.

The Twili nodded faithfully, "Yes, Master, I will not betray your expectations." He grinned wickedly, but after a moment, it faded. "…Though, I have been thinking, if you'll permit me to speak freely…" He asked meekly.

Ganondorf chuckled, _Thinking…for himself? Really? Little miracles_. "Very well. I'll humour you." He gestured his hand, inviting whatever babble the Twili had in mind.

Zant took a nervous breath, bringing sleeved hands up to press together in front of his chest. "Well… When you asked me to shatter the Mirror, My Lord, I had expected that to be the end of things. I scattered them across the world, there was no way that the Hero could've known where to find them." He tilted his head, making an odd sound. "Yet, he has done just that. I fear, Master, that he was aided by the Sages… And if so, might that affect my chances of winning? I have only my tribe's shadow magics, even aided as they are by your Holy Power… If he has been gifted a source of light to cleave such things…" He trailed off, noticing his God's expression darkening into an innately evil look.

The sages. He had forgotten about their possible intervention; If the Hero had indeed spoken with them, chances were the sanctimonious bastards had blown his cover, especially while the boy had been standing in the Arbiter's Grounds, where his execution took place. They probably regaled the whole damn tale. "I have blessed you with great strength, Zant. You will be the victor, no matter how many friends he's made in high places. I command you to end this, once and for all, or I will forsake you and your realm, do you understand me?" He hissed fiercely.

The Twili flinched, before regaining his composure. "Y-Yes, Master. I do." He bowed quickly, "I will report back when his broken body lies strewn about my throne room." He chirped confidently, the image slowly dissipating as the connection was lost; leaving only the Gerudo's scowling reflection.

Zelda had all but collapsed against the door, heart beating faster as her breath had stilled. She was dreaming, she had to be; Link was dead, they'd _eaten_ him, hadn't they? The hat… Ganondorf's calm demeanor… It wasn't possible that she'd heard correctly. Her wide eyes wavered, glossed with tears yet to fall. _He's alive, _her mind shouted at her, _They're both alive! _Suddenly, the door opened, causing the Princess to stumble as she caught herself on a broad, armoured chest. With horror, she threw herself back, putting distance between the Gerudo and herself. Not because she feared her punishment for eavesdropping, but because her mind was reeling; He'd lied to her again. Tricked her and crushed all of her hope, forced her to rebuild the view of her entire world, drawing out her affections and understanding, even forgiveness… On a lie.

The Dark Lord had jumped in surprise upon discovering Zelda—By her falling onto him—And stared at her, disbelievingly. The look on her face gave it away, she'd heard every word. His shock swiftly turned to a dangerous leer. "Zelda… Don't you look lovely…" He offered quietly, taking a menacing step forward. "It'd be a shame to see you cry in such a beautiful dress."

The Princess shook with anger, feeling the sting of betrayal in her chest. "Is there nothing you have not lied to me about!" Her fisted hands shook at her sides, lip twitching into a sneer as wild eyes burned into him. "I give everything to you! I set aside everything I am on the hope that I could make up for the past, redeem the failings that have haunted me to the very depths of my broken soul! You allowed me to believe that I was to save the both of us; bring about a better world and balance the scales!" Her tone rose into a pitched scream, as her hand darted out to grab a wooden sculpture from the table and throw it at him. "And you cannot even care enough to let go of your anger, despite what we could achieve together!"

The Gerudo barely dodged the carving as it flew passed his head, golden eyes wide at her audacity. It seemed she'd snapped, the usually calm Princess screaming at him; Not the reaction he was quite expecting, and he was definitely confused by the content of those screams. He growled, scowling, "Zelda, calm down."

The distraught Princess glared viciously, pointing at him. "I will not, you selfish, arrogant bastard! All of this time, you have placed the fault of this occupation upon me, upon my ancestors and my people! But, here I find that you have continuously lied; you were no better, turning on your own people to elevate yourself, by your own confession! You require so much from me, to change my world views, my beliefs, my boundaries and personal treasures; all forfeit, but you are not willing to do the same in return." She hissed through clenched teeth. "No, while I learn, attempt to better myself, showing acceptance and forgiveness, you play your games like the puppeteer, with all the world on strings. You say you have Din's blessing, acting on behalf of your oppressed people, but if any of that were so, then the Hero would truly have been broiled and served to me on a plate long ago!"

Tensing his jaw in frustration, the Gerudo stepped forward, intent on getting a hold of her and shaking her until she fell silent. "Zelda, I swear to the Gods, if you do not hold your tongue I will sew your lips shut." Grabbing her arms, her roughly pulled her along the room as she struggled, throwing her into an armchair.

The Princess landed in the chair with a poof of her dress, awkwardly throwing his arms off of her and crossing her own over her chest in a huff. She glared up at him, lips pursed and ready to spit venom. When she spoke again, she did so with fewer hysterics. "You made me doubt the very Goddesses who mothered us all. To think, I saw the good in you that could've been salvaged; the brilliant man you could've been… I planned for the both of us to be at peace, and you just throw every opportunity to be sated aside, for petty revenge and a power trip." She shook her head, bitter. "You don't deserve my affections, after everything you've put me through, and you have lost any chance of redemption in my eyes."

Peering up at him, she looked hurt, staring him down with glossed eyes. "I truly believed I could save you from yourself…" she whispered, "…And you let me."

Ganondorf stared down at the upset Princess, unsure of himself; He wished she would curse him, hate him, cast him down to the pits of Hell and tell him that the Hero was going to kill him. Not this… Anything but this. Every word stabbed into his mind like a poisoned dagger, stinging and dredging up dangerous thoughts. Thoughts of guilt, of regret, even a twinge of shame, burning within his chest—All thinly veiled with his usual scowl. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, it was all coming to a realization he would sooner kill himself than admit to: He had grown attached to the little harpy, and her outburst—revealing her genuine attachment to him, as well—only strengthened his fixation on the girl. Now he faced losing her, his prize, and it angered him more than it should have.

Taking a deep breath, he took a hand to her face, brushing a lock of hair behind her pointed ear with a thoughtful look. "Oh, my dear, sweet Zelda…" He mused, shaking his head lightly. "I can understand your anger now… But, believe me when I say that you are, indeed, going to save the both of us…Even after this little spat of ours." An eerie smile spread across his lips, as his fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head to look at him.

Zelda frowned, sadness staining her crystalline eyes. "It's too late for you, Ganondorf. You know as well as I do that Link and Midna will come for you, now. Wisdom has failed to reconcile Power, and Courage will intervene. It's the Will of the Goddesses that you face each other."

The Gerudo chuckled, his eyes gleaming with something devious. "I am well aware of that…" He grinned wickedly, sending a shiver down her spine. "He will come to kill me… Not you… He could never harm you…" His hand moved slowly up the side of her face, settling two fingers at her forehead as he began to laugh to himself.

Zelda's eyes widened in panic, as she sunk back into the seat, stuttering. "W-what do you…?" Within an instant, a bolt of black miasma shot from his fingertips, dissolving into her skin and making her body feel heavy. Her energy was fading quickly, and though she struggled against it, her eyelids continued to droop. "Gan..on…"

The Gerudo stood over her, smiling sinfully. "Goodnight, my dear…" He said charmingly, watching her fade into the induced slumber.

The last thing the Princess saw was that evil gleam to his golden eyes, as for a second time, her world faded alarmingly, into a silent and lonely black.

**A/N: I love the poker scene with the monsters. I wasn't going to put it in, originally, I just alluded to bets being placed, but I couldn't resist. I thought it was funny.**

**Next chapter is the last one, followed by an epilogue! I'm almost finished! Yay!**


	13. The Hymn of a Broken Man

Word of Zant's defeat traveled quickly as reports of the Hero's return from Twilight, victorious, burned in the ears of all those in the Dark Lord's service. Many beasts fell back into obscurity, to lay low until they were sure their Master had dealt with the threat; Many more celebrated new wealth, even going so far as to praise the boy's efforts and leave him be should they see him—Thanks to Link, they could retire early, rich beyond belief for their kind. The bravest punters, who had been ostracized among their peers for such outlandish bets, had abandoned service all together, waiting for the rest of their wagers to pay off like the first and dreaming of luxurious futures.

While the legions of monsters across the land bickered and bartered, ranging from somber to jovial, for the few days after Zant's defeat, all the land fell into an anxious silence when the Hero appeared near the Western gate of Castle Town. He had crossed the desert mesas, the grand lake and the fields; Now, as the final showdown drew nigh, it seemed every man and monster alike awaited the outcome with baited breath.

The castle was not immune to this hush either, as the halls were still and no movement would be seen or heard. The beasts were on orders to hinder the Hero's advancement as much as possible; most were, for the moment, stationed in the grounds and ready to hold their positions in an ambush. The Bulbin King was leading the defense, fully intent on making a final stand against this worthy opponent, and testing the mettle of the Hero in one last duel. The boy had beaten him upon two bridges, and once more in the desert; Should he win, yet again… the Beast knew the occupation would be lost.

High above, the Dark Lord walked with a slow gait up a narrow stairwell, the slumbering Princess held safely in his arms, as if he cradled a feather. She had not been roused from her comatose state, at the mercy of her fiancé—He had taken to talking to her, enjoying the silence; He found he missed the sound of her voice though, after the two days spent waiting. Today was the third, and Ganondorf was looking forward to resuming the daily normality he and the Princess now shared. His armour shifted as he walked, the dull clink of metal echoing of the stone walls; it was a lonely journey to the very summit of the castle, where the throne—_His_ throne—lay waiting. He was dressed to the nines, as was Zelda, with not a single hair out of place; these were the outfits required of them, identifying them as each piece on this proverbial chess board. A lot of effort had gone into making this little game appear so simple; natural. The Gods had chosen their avatars, lovingly crafted the world in which it would take place, full of prizes… and now, the final round had begun.

The Gerudo paused at the top of the winding ascent, and with no more than a glance oversaw the stairwell crumble and fall away, large chunks of stone sent tumbling down into an abyss, leaving gaping chasms in their wake. Whether he was destined to face the boy or not, he was not about to make things easier for his nemesis; If the Hero truly thought himself a worthy opponent to the King of Light and Shadow, he'd have to overcome the perilous gauntlet that was once the homely castle. With a satisfied grunt, Ganondorf turned on his heel, carrying the Princess towards the large door that led to the outside balcony and upwards to the ostentatious throne room.

With a grinding sound like that of stones scraping together, the egress gave way, and the Dark Lord stepped out into the hazy air, polluted with the smell of beasts and smoke rising up from down below. Walking across the short distance, he came to stand at the edge, overlooking the carnage that was about to take place—None of them would stand a chance against the Hero's Blade. Golden eyes scanned the barrier, near the entrance from the town, as the mark upon his hand flickered to life and confirmed the presence of Courage. _Well,_ he thought darkly, _It's about time_.

A jolt of dark energy prickled his tanned skin as foreign magics began to coalesce and transform beneath, and he recognized it immediately; The fused Shadow. The Imp was showing remarkable skill in controlling it, as a demonic form took hold of her, growing rapidly in size and strength. Within moments, the Gerudo could see the mutilated Twili clearly, giant and glowing with the petty power of her tribe. It pulsed within her skin, spider-like arms gathering energy as she summoned a trident and drove it forcefully into the barrier he'd erected. Ganondorf almost lost his grip on the Princess, a magical pressure slamming into him as his own power was beaten back—The arteries in his head bulged painfully, throbbing as the force of the blow made his knees weak. He hadn't designed the barrier to withstand such a thing, and it was sapping valuable energy the longer it held against the assault. Finally he let the spell dissolve, watching as the golden prism shattered like glass to become little more than dust upon the wind; _Is that all, little Imp?_ He thought, recovering his posture after a quick shake of his head, _Impressive…But, now I know the scope of your power. _

Letting out a laugh as he watched the heroic duo enter the grounds below, his gaze turned to the Princess, her head resting against his shoulder lifelessly. "Your friends seem eager to meet me, Zelda…" He chuckled, "It is such a shame that they will miss the wedding, but I have a feeling they might spoil such an occasion, anyway; Best to take them off the invitations list now and be done with it." Smirking down at the chaos unfolding in the grounds, the Gerudo turned away, climbing the steps with confidence. He was not worried; His blood flowed within Zelda's veins, allowing him to store power within her—A fail safe on which to resurrect himself so long as she lived. To kill him, as they were, she would also need to die, and Ganondorf knew that would not be a possibility. There was always the chance that something noble within the girl's mind might stir her to cut her own life short for the greater good, like she had before, but he had a plan to counter that as well.

Wherever the Dark Lord walked, a mist of shadow formed in his wake, hazing the view of the outside world as he strode across the streak of blue carpet, boot falls muffled by the still air. His gaze roamed the details of this mighty zenith, from the strong pillars lining the walls, as if holding up the heavens, to the marbled patterns washing over the floor, like lightning in grey clouds; above the throne was the emblem that joined all underneath the banner of the Gods' care—The Triforce—Surrounded by effigies of the holy sisters themselves.

Stopping short of it, standing in the middle of the expanse, the Gerudo studied the sight. Each Goddess cradled the relic with such loving protection, yet he knew this was a lie; this was merely a symbol of the Hylian's delusions, another subtle claim to be the favorite of all the Gods' children, guarded and sacred in the eyes of the Mothers. He stood in living testament to the truth of the matter—All those in the light were equal favorites, or he would not hold Din's blessing upon his hand as a Gerudo. The Hylians had held the spotlight for far too long, destroying the lives of the impoverished and downtrodden in the twisted notion that they had a holy right to do so; the most spoiled and selfish of all the Goddesses' creations.

So much of his life had been lost to them, learning their ways and bending to their expectations—everything he'd held precious of his own people and culture was slowly pushed to the wayside as he was forced to conform to their ideals. Zelda's angered words flashed through his mind, _You require so much from me, to change my world views, my beliefs, my boundaries and personal treasures; all forfeit, but you are not willing to do the same in return_. A sneer crossed his lips, as the fires of his rage grew from an ember to a lively blaze, staring down the impressive statue. _You were no better, turning on your own people to elevate yourself, by your own confession;_ Her voice seared his soul, as his gaze shifted to her, still and listless in his arms. Such bitter irony, cruel and ignorant, were concealed within the words she had spoken to him that day—And she, for all her supposed Wisdom, seemed blind to it still.

Ganondorf spoke to her, though she might not hear him, his voice rough with anger and sorrow. "…I'll never forgive you." He whispered, golden eyes tracing her serene features. "You tried so hard to understand me, Zelda… But you haven't heard a word I've said; Never truly listened. You saw sketches of the world through my eyes, researched my culture, probed me for my version of history and yet, in the end, you haven't understood me at all." He sighed, shaking his head. "I never said it while you were awake… My pride wouldn't allow me to… But You and I are not that different at all; in fact, so similar are we that, had I your skin, your ears, or even your eyes, nothing would seem amiss."

Turning his eyes toward the throne once more, he gave a self depreciating chuckle. "…I told you once that I was little more Gerudo than you, and I suppose it was my own fault that you did not realize it later, when I caught you with my sketchbook… That I, Princess, am a product of your ancestral culture, and not of my own." A wry smile etched itself into his weathered features. "My hatred and greed, as I said, were my own and not shared by the Gerudo. But I failed to mention to you that those traits were taught to me, instilled, by the Hylian society I was forced to be a part of. I am the embodiment, Princess, of Hylian error, presented to you as a harsh and unfortunate truth."

The Gerudo narrowed his eyes as he focused his magic, dark crackles of shadow whipped around the necks of the effigies, like a noose for each Goddess. "… I have Din's blessing, and with it I atone for the betrayal of my people, by giving yours a taste of the sin they've wreaked for so long, unchecked. That, Zelda, is the true Will of the Goddesses."

With a sharp snapping sound, the dark bolts constricted around the marble necks, cleanly decapitating each figure; the heads scattered about the room, jousted by the force and landing to chip hard against the stone flooring. The Dark Lord glanced about, satisfied, and took a heavy step forward—In his mind, the Hylian's favor with the Gods had been cleaved. Zelda's body grew weightless in Ganondorf muscled arms, as the Gerudo watched her rise into the air, suspended in all her beauty in front of the carved relic. He smirked up at her; How peaceful she looked. "This will all be over soon, My Dear. Sleep well."

No more than an hour passed, the Hero scaling the treacherous castle with haste. The Bulbin King and his horde had defaulted, standing down to allow the 'stronger side' passage. Any loyalist minions who remained quickly found themselves busy fending off an alliance of rebels, who had joined Link in the assault, clearing the way for the boy's ascent. Between the ghosts of the fallen soldiers and the arsenal of weapons the Hero had gained on his travels, even the traps and pitfalls Ganondorf had left behind him were little more than a hindrance. As Link and his Twili companion emerged from the castle, scaling the last steps to their goal, a foul wind blew across the land, whistling within the grand archway of the throne room and giving final warning that the battle would be to the finish.

Link's pace slowed to a crawl as he crossed the threshold, vision obscured slightly by shadowed mist. Blinking against it, his steps grew cautious; Midna appeared beside him, springing from his shadow, letting her crimson gaze sweep the expansive chamber. A twinge of concern flickered on the boy's face as he noticed the severed head of one of the effigies, laying a few paces away from his feet. _That can't be good,_ he thought, looking up to see, with some shock, Princess Zelda hanging in the air. His steely eyes widened with fleeting panic; Was she dead? His reaction must've seemed humourous, because as that moment, a foreboding chuckle rang out into the air, echoing across from the throne. Link's eyes shot towards it, instinctively taking a step forward though he was soon held back by Midna's arm; He paused, steadying himself, watching as their enemy came into focus across the bleak fog. Both of their faces settled into weary glares.

Upon the throne sat the Dark Lord, leaning on his elbow casually, resting his head upon his fist with an amused smirk. "Welcome to my castle."

Midna scowled, disgusted by the sight. Lowering her head with a vicious leer towards the Gerudo, she bore her tiny fangs. "So… You're Ganondorf." She hissed with an acidic tone.

Another dark chuckle rolled across the chamber as the Dark Lord slowly rose, gripping the sheath of a bright blade that seemed juxtaposed to him in every way. His golden eyes settled on them as he took a step forward into the light, a proud cape the colour of blood fanning out behind him. The look he cast them spoke volumes, and Link noticed, with some concern, that he clearly didn't think them a threat. A tone of ascent hummed from the Gerudo's throat, inclining his head slightly to suggest that the Imp was correct.

_Look at that ego,_ Link thought, watching the man carefully, _He's not playing around. If we're not careful, there's every chance that one of us could die…I just hope Midna doesn't try anything reckless; the Princess is in a bad way as it is. _He shifted, casting the Twili a sidelong glance.

The Imp's lips cracked into a murderous smile; she couldn't wait to see the man torn limb from limb for all that he'd done. "I've been dying to meet you…" She seethed. _I'm going to rip that cocky smirk right off your ugly face._

Ganondorf took a few more steps, thoroughly enjoying Midna's thinly veiled hatred of him. It was of exactly the kind that her realm had fed him, bolstering his strength and fueling his own rage by refreshing it with others'—All of it directed at the Hylian Empire and the pitiful light they championed. "Your people have long amused me, Midna…" He glanced at the Hero, before continuing. "To defy the Gods with such petty magic, only to be cast aside…" His smirk widened into a wicked smile. "…How very pathetic."

The Twili's grin faded immediately with the insult of her people, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she grit her teeth. _How dare he…We'll see how pathetic you think our magics are when I get a shot in._

The look of vengeance shining in her crimson eyes was beautiful, and Ganondorf couldn't resist drawing more out of her. _Yes, let all of your hatred fester and bubble to the surface, it will make your demise all the sweeter…_ "Pathetic as they were, though, they served me well. Their anguish was my nourishment." He gestured a hand toward her, "Their hatred bled across the void and awakened me… I drew deep of it and grew strong again." His fist closed as he visualized the memory, feeling that strength pulsing fresh in his veins; true power… Her own people had provided the fuel for her downfall, and he could imagine how much that hurt the prideful Twili.

He chuckled to himself, sending her a condescending look. "Your people had some skill, to be sure… but they lacked true power." He even feigned pity for her, his rich voice dripping with it as he paced to the side. His golden gaze wandered to Zelda, held above him still; a fleeting shimmer of respect in his eyes. "…The kind of absolute power that those chosen by the Gods wield." He smiled to himself, turning back to face the heroic duo.

Holding up his fist, the Holy mark resonated, shining through as evidence of his claim. "He who wields such power would make a suitable King for this world, don't you think?" A vicious grin split his lips as he said it. _Rhetorical, little Imp, but you'll answer it anyway…Won't you? Always did have to get the last word…But not this time._

Right on the mark, Midna scoffed, her temper getting the better of her judgment. "Ha! Such conceit!" She chided, sneering at him with distaste.

Link, however, took note of the mark with some interest. _Like Zelda and I, He is blessed as well…It is just as the Sages said; a divine prank. But how is such a thing even possible?_

The Imp was shocked at the audacity of the Dark Lord, not taking notice of Link's concern; Was the man honestly so delusional to think he could just bat them away like insects? She settled some, reigning in her temper—He was too confident, something wasn't right here. Slowly, she continued, "…But if you are one of the chosen wielders of power, as you claim…" She spat scornfully, gesturing her arms with a definitive motion, "Then I will risk everything to deny you."

Ganondorf cocked a brow at her declaration, an amused smirk playing on his lips. She had changed vastly from the selfish, single minded Twili he had first seen; The Hero seemed to have done quite a number on her… He was going to enjoy tearing the friends apart. "Shadow has been moved by light, it seems…" He chuckled darkly, sending her a wicked and knowing grin. "…How amusing."

Taking a breath, he raised his hand, beckoning the challenge. "Very well… Deny me then." He said nonchalantly, turning his gaze to Zelda. "Yes… Try to deny me… You and your little friend…"

Midna blanched, sensing the intent as the Gerudo peered up at Zelda's unmoving form. _If that bastard lays a hand on her I'll rip the teeth from his mouth!_ She shot forward, cleaving through the air with agility to place herself between the Princess and the Dark Lord, glaring down at him and baring her fangs in silent warning. _Just try it,_ she hissed mentally, steeling herself for whatever was in store.

The Gerudo grinned up at her mischievously, hand held aloft; _Perfect,_ he thought, readying himself, _I love it when a plan comes together…_ His body began to shift and fragment, dispersing into particles of the Twilight the Imp held so dear, and rose into the air. Within seconds, the remnants of his being hurled themselves at the Twili, rushing through the air like thousands of tiny daggers.

Link gasped, reaching a hand out in vein; he could only watch with horror as the particles rushed past his flinching companion and into the body of the Princess, disappearing into her porcelain skin without a trace. Anger flashed through him as Midna's eyes opened, scanning herself to find that she was unharmed; _That coward, _He spat in his mind, _Using Zelda as a shield!_

After a moment the Twili, too, realized what had happened and spun, raising her claws to strike. But faced with Zelda's serene form, peaceful and unblemished, Midna's resolve faltered; _No! Zelda would want this! She's sacrificed herself before!_ Her mind screamed at her, her hand wavering in the air indecisively. _…And that was one sacrifice too many…_With a heavy sigh, she winced, lowering her hand uselessly. She couldn't bring herself to do it, Zelda had given up too much; there had to be another way. Opening her eyes slowly, Midna stared at the Princess with sorrow, bringing a hand to her cheek. _I'm sorry, Zelda…_

But to Midna's horror, the Princess' eyes snapped open, tainted and golden, as her skin instantly cracked into lines of twilight corruption, spreading across the flesh as if she were a broken porcelain doll. A powerful force slammed into the Imp, knocking her away with such an impact that the Twili's vision went black.

Link's eyes shot wide as she careened overhead, hitting the floor with a sickening crack and skidding through the arched entrance, cast out. Instinctively, his feet moved to sprint after his companion, fearing for her safety, but was halted as a golden barrier—Not unlike the one that had surrounded the castle—Blocked his path. His shock quickly subsided as heels clicked upon the stone behind him, forcing his attention away. Turning to face the tainted Zelda, Link couldn't help the taste of bile rising in his throat; _This sick joke ends today._

Within Zelda's fragmented mind, the Princess screamed out, tried to move; regain control. But to no avail, as she relieved her nightmare—_This wasn't supposed to happen,_ she cried out, _You can't do this! I never meant…_ But even within her own thoughts she grew silent, reduced to a spectator as Ganondorf took up the rapier her father had given her. Her sorrow and pain bled out across Ganondorf's phyche, mingled with her own mind, as she silently pleaded with him to battle the Hero, kill her, anything but win with an idea she'd given him.

Ganondorf pushed her pleas to the back of his mind, using her own lips to drown her out, issuing the Hero with his challenge. "Both of you, faithless fools who would dare to take up arms against the King of Light and Shadow… So you choose, and so you shall feel my wrath." He rose up, hovering back as the Hero's hand went to the hilt of the Master Sword, glaring at him with the wild eyes of a beast. As Ganondorf stared down at the boy, somewhat surprised by the intent in his eyes, Zelda's voice slipped through; the Gerudo could feel both her alarm and gratification, _He will sooner kill us both than back down; You and I have our purpose, that drives us, and so does he._

The Gerudo growled, rearing back the rapier and preparing to swoop down at the boy; _Be silent!_ He spat mentally, diving through the air, _You know as well as I he will not deal the finishing blow, as we are._ Link had drawn his sword, a sharp clash of metal resounded as he sidestepped the attack. The boy backed away as Ganondorf righted himself mid-flight, spinning to glare down at him.

Zelda laughed quietly in her mind, as the Gerudo cast a spell toward Link, distracting Ganondorf from the battle. _Do you remember the nightmare I had, _she asked, saddened, _that day I first kissed you, in the drawing room?_

Grunting with frustration as the boy dodged each spell he cast, he bit back; _What of it?_

The Princess sent a tremor of shame through their shared mind; _This is what it was about…_

With a roar, Ganondorf lifted the rapier high, gathering energy at the tip of the blade, intent on blasting the damned Hero off his feet. He hurled the shock of light towards the boy, who, instinctively, swung his blade—The Master Sword easily deflected the blow, sending it back towards them.

_All this time, I thought it was symbolic, _she whispered, _But now it's happening._

The Dark Lord sliced, copying the Hero's movements with a sneer etched onto Zelda's tainted face. _Stop talking!_ He yelled mentally, his outward efforts sapping the concentration he needed to drown her out.

The Princess felt his anger wash over her, and returned only sorrow; _I fell into the abyss; the Hero reached for me, but never caught my hand…_ Below, Link jumped, bringing the blade down forcefully and sending the energy back once more, at twice the speed.

_Ganondorf…I died…_

Shock swept through the Gerudo, the borrowed body stilled at what that revelation may mean; As the words echoed through their mind, the attack hit, searing skin as pain tore through both of them, paralyzing their form as Ganondorf struggled to keep them out of reach. Pale lips screamed with a twisted unison of their voices, joined in agony.

Link halted his movements, staring at his foe with a bewildered look—He swore he could hear Zelda. _She's alive in there…_He thought desperately, becoming unsure of himself as his grip tightened upon the hilt of his blade. "Midna!" He called, eyes whipping between his enemy and his fallen friend, "Midna, get up! Please! I need your help!" His eyes widened as the Princess' body recovered, the Dark Lord's voice giving a lonely yell as he threw the magic off.

Ganondorf's temper flared as he screamed within the body; _Enough! He is the only one who is to die!_ Once again, he dove toward the boy, accelerating with an alarming speed, rapier poised to pierce Link's heart. _I told you I would protect you, and __**nobody**__ is taking my prize away from me!_

The Hero barely had time to move, ducking to hide behind his shield; "Ngh!" He shrieked with shock and pain, as the rapier slid from the shield to graze his arm, stumbling to the side as Zelda's body passed him. He caught his balance quickly, wincing as blood began to seep through the sleeve of his tunic, staining the green.

Ganondorf hung in the air above him, wearing a mad grin on Zelda's lips, panting. _You're going to save us, Zelda… You're going to save us both, just like you wanted._

The Princess could feel it; fear and uncertainty, resonating between them. She sent out waves of comfort, trying to calm him, soothe him, though she knew the Gerudo was doomed. It saddened her, still, that he couldn't be saved—even after everything, she wished she could help him. Even as she felt her arm defy her, rising to gather twice as much energy as before, she spoke; _Everything you said to me, before this battle… I heard it, every word._ She felt him hesitate only a second, before hurling the bolt desperately at the boy. _Even had I not, I would feel it; you and are completely open to each other, in this moment. _The energy was sent back and forth between the Hero and their body, heated slashes taking their toll on each combatant. _…Knowing what I do now… Before this is over, Ganondorf, I want you to know…_

With a mighty yell, the Hero swung, sending the massive attack hurtling back toward them once more.

…_That I forgive you._

The attack hit with force enough to set their joined mind blank, waves of burning agony threatening to tear the two apart completely as the body slowly drifted down, useless and spent. Link, seeing the barrier drop away, spun on his heel to call his waking companion. "Midna! Zelda's in there! She's alive!" He yelled desperately, as the Twili Imp slowly picked herself up, shaking off her pain to summon the power of the Fused Shadow. A pulse of energy ran through her as the fragments of the ancient mask materialized, circling her tiny frame.

Fighting with the disobeying body, Ganondorf struggled on the stone floor, raising a twitching hand to try and raise the barrier again, though his power was failing. He'd lost control of the body, his influence dampened, and the precious little time he needed was not going to be afforded to him as Midna donned the ancient mask, the fragments snapping to her body and filling her form with power.

Within a moment, the Imp had become the hulking demon, spider-like limbs glowing with magic, and she wasted no time as she lunged forward. The arms slammed into the tainted body, trapping their foe in her grasp as the arms rushed toward the throne; powerful forces coalesced and flooded the Princess' form, squeezing any foreign influence from her and ripping out each particle that was not her own—Including the traces of Ganondorf's blood, that he'd used to remake her. A pained scream echoed across the chamber, disembodied though clearly belonging to the Dark Lord as he was torn away from his only bid for safety. When Midna was sure the darkness had been expelled, she released Zelda's fragile frame, leaving the purified Princess upon the throne; _Where you belong,_ the Twili thought, relief washing through her.

Taking a few steps, Link inspected his arm before turning his gaze to the Princess; _Thank the Goddesses,_ he thought, a smile spreading across his lips. His steeled eyes noted the return of her natural features, her skin unblemished in its normal colour. She was safe from Ganondorf's control, at least—Unconscious, he hoped, as a pang of concern hit him. He had no way of telling whether the Princess had survived. "Are you alright, Midna?" He asked, as the Twili's impish form returned, though his attention was pulled elsewhere, ears twitching at the sound of something rushing through the air. He frowned, turning slowly to find a dark mass gathering on the marbled floor; writhing. _Round two, _He thought sarcastically, unsurprised.

The Imp rose, floating over to lean against his shoulder playfully as the two exchanged self satisfied smirks, "It'll take more than that to bring me down." She chimed confidently, though her concern was evident, and her levity quickly turned to caution.

The two of them watched with morbid fascination as the shadowed mass slowly took form, though not the shape that they had expected; It seemed Ganondorf possessed a beast form as well, and planned to use it as a trump card. The Hero could actually feel the wave of bloodlust coursing through the air; "…Not just you, Midna."he said humourlessly, "…He's mad as a hornet, too."

Twitching shadow took physical form, the darkness receding to reveal the Dark Beast that was once the Gerudo King; a wild mane like flames coursed up its back, sooty thick skin barely contained bulging muscles, as the demonic boar reared back on its hinds. A thrashing of claws ripped through the air, until landing on all fours once more—A heavy thump threatened to crack the stone floor, signaling the impressive strength and weight the transformed Ganondorf now possessed. Massive jaws parted beneath the twitching snout, letting loose a mighty roar that blew back the Hero's hair and tunic, issuing the Dark Lord's threat.

Link's feet moved to stabilize himself, each boot planted firmly to the ground as he took up stance, sword drawn. Gritting his teeth as the beast moved back, the Hero gave a roar of his own; "Alright, let's go!" He challenged, flexing his shield as Midna hid within his shadow for safety. With a vicious snarl, his foe charged, on a collision course as Link drew back his blade ready to strike. Before either blow landed, however, Ganondorf's hulking form shattered as it had before, pricking at the Hero's skin as the boy was left in shock—The beast had vanished into thin air.

The battle seemed to be one of trickery, as Link was left to search the chamber, steely eyes flicking about wildly. _Where did that bastard run off to?_ He thought, before catching sight of his shadow, growing. _What the…?_ Alarm shot through him as he deftly rolled aside, and narrowly avoided being crushed with only a second to spare as the beast hit the floor with an almighty blow. Pain shot through his injured arm as it connected with the floor, smearing blood upon the marble as, stumbling, he got to his feet.

With another fierce roar, the beast took off again, rampaging through the chamber and knocking into the columns; the impact rocked through the chamber as the pillars fell, crumbling and sending chucks of marble flying. Holding up his shield to deflect any debris sent his way, Link sidestepped to keep track of Ganondorf as he circled around him, only to watch him vanish into some sort of Twilight portal.

Across the room, another portal appeared, and the Hero readied himself for the beast to charge out; as he waited, another portal appeared, followed by another after that. Link scowled with frustration, as his attention drifted between each one. "Stop toying about and face me!" He shouted, only to eat his words as demonic boar came crashing through from the left at top speed.

The Hero could only dodge, slicing at the thick hide as he scurried to the side, shunted by the force of the beast's near miss. In and out of the portals, appearing and charging, this continued; Link searched for any weakness he could, drawing his bow to bombard Ganondorf with arrows and slashing as he passed. This only served to slow the beast down, the arrowheads sticking into taught muscle painfully, hide rended by swift strokes of the Master Sword. Eventually, even through the primal haze of rage that corrupted the transformed Gerudo's mind, Ganondorf saw a pattern emerge in the boy's attacks, and avoided them accordingly. As the demonic boar charged, the Hero needed the agile reflexes of an animal to keep pace. "Midna!" The Twili knew what he had called for, rising from his shadow to touch Zant's power to his skin; the magic washed through his flesh as shadow overtook his form, transforming the boy into a wild beast to match his foe.

Letting loose a low growl as Ganondorf thundered toward them, the Imp picked up on his intent and responded, making use of her hair—Power surged through it, forming a hand to grip the boar's crown, struggling to pull him aside and throw him off his course. Midna heaved him with all of her strength, though Ganondorf would merely roll to his feet; a few times this was repeated, the lupine Hero gnashing at the transformed Gerudo's limbs and underbelly each time he tried to right himself. As the fight took its toll on the Hero, he grew sluggish from the effort, and a surprise charge finally caught him off guard.

Hit with enough force to shatter bones, Midna was knocked off of her companion and sent careening to the floor as Link found himself quickly tumbled and scuffed beneath the claws, thrusting his own upwards in a last ditch effort and ripping through the glowing scar on the beast's torso. It tore anew, dripping with shining ichors, accompanied by a primal scream—Ganondorf lost his footing, toppling head first over himself and sent skidding across the marbled stone to crash into a remnant pillar.

The Hero wasted no time; sharp eyes locked onto the boar, lunging forth to tear into the reopened wound viciously with his teeth. Pained howls escaped Ganondorf's snout, as Link sunk his fangs deep, rending flesh before hearing the transformed Gerudo go silent, defeated. Jumping off of the body, Link watched as black mist began to pool around Ganondorf's skin, and satisfied, released the magic holding his lupine form.

The Hero stood as the shadow faded, blinking away the discomfort with an exhausted sigh; His body was heavy with the pain of Ganondorf's charge, but with Courage pulsing in his veins, he knew he'd persevere. As his foe's body slowly began to dissolve and melt away into smoke and golden mist, Link shifted, smiling at his imp-like companion. "…I know I made that look easy… But that really hurt…" He laughed, shrugging his wounded arm. He turned, steely eyes glancing toward the throne.

Midna drifted up from the floor, shrugging herself off and floated by his side with a weary eye on their foe. "You'll live." She teased idly, distracted. Crimson eyes wavered as she felt something pull inside of her; _…Zelda…?_ Her skin felt warm, tingling, as she looked down at herself—She was glowing. The Imp blinked with some surprise, feeling a part of herself fragment and separate, as the glow began to manifest into sparkling flecks of light. Pulling her attention away, the Twili turned, sending a hopeful gaze toward the Princess as Link spoke.

"…Midna…? Is something— " He blinked, watching the glimmers of life float toward the throne.

As the glow shifted from the Twili imp to the Princess, signs of life slowly returned to her in a miraculous display. Zelda's form grew bright as the heroic pair looked on, and after a tense and hopeful moment, her chest rose; She was alive, and breathing.

Crystalline eyes slowly fluttered open as the light of day entered her mind, the vision cutting through the darkness of her inactive psyche—_Where…Am I…?_ She thought, blinking as her focus returned; the blurred streaks of green and grey turning into the familiar forms of Link and Midna. _What is this anguish I feel? This is…_ Zelda realized suddenly, that she could feel the weight of the Twili's memories, shared in that moment. It was clear to her now. Wisdom had returned to her, imbuing her with new life. A rush of air filled her lungs at a healthy pace, as her lips twitched into a smile. _I am alive…Nayru has returned me to the mortal plane!_

In some disbelief, Midna stuttered, feeling a flicker of the torment Zelda had also endured. "Pr-Princess… I… I…" Blinking crimson eyes, she stared on, unable to form words to match what she had felt.

Zelda's ears twitched at the soft sound of the Imp's voice, her gaze settling clearly on the Twili. "Say nothing, Midna." She smiled reassuringly—The Princess knew what was trying to be put into words, and such things did not need to be spoken between them. "Your heart and mine were as one, however briefly…" Zelda blinked, tilting her head sorrowfully. "Such suffering you have endured…"

Midna felt her stomach twist painfully at those words, having glimpsed the agony Zelda herself had been put through; _My anger, despair and humiliation…You've matched them, haven't you? You didn't need to suffer like that, Zelda… Mine was inevitable, yours was a choice…A sacrifice for our sake…_The Imp's eyes closed, feeling a strange mixture of shame and sadness, mingled with hope and conviction—Zelda had given her all, and now, more than ever, Midna felt it was her turn. _No more suffering… We've paid our debts, all of us, light and shadow._

The Princess cast a grateful look towards Link, glad that he was not gravely injured. He was smiling proudly, despite his bad arm—His relief didn't last long though, as his brows twitched nervously. Before Zelda could ask what was wrong, she felt it; A lightning like shock of raw power surging through the air and swimming across her skin. A gasp slipped free as the Hero turned, and her vision followed; _He's still alive?_ She thought desperately, her mind racing as the black and golden mists has turned to a hungry flame, a giant mass of energy burning in the center of the chamber.

_Ganondorf, don't do this…_She thought in horror, stepping back as old and new feelings overwhelmed her; She could see his face forming within the golden blaze. _Your rage will be the death of you, please, I implore you, let it go…_Even as she begged, willing it so, she continued a slow retreat as did the Hero beside her—The moment the click of her heel was accompanied by a boot fall, she felt terrified.

The Twili hadn't moved, settling an eerie and calm gaze upon the Dark Lord's incarnation as she made up her mind; Once again the fragments appeared, circling her tiny frame as she prepared the power of the Fused Shadow. _For what has happened to these realms…To us… I will end this._

Link's attention pulled in her direction, realizing what was about to happen; It was what he'd been afraid Midna would do… Something reckless. _Goddesses, no!_ The Hero lunged toward his companion, reaching for the Imp like he had Zelda, in her dream. "Midna, don't…!" He cried, watching helplessly as his hand fell mere inches from her skin, shattering and shooting heavenward in Twilight particles—He was being sent elsewhere. "Midna!" The echo of Link's voice remained longer than his body, as the rest of him was quickly spirited away to safety.

The Princess, too, felt the prickle of magics upon her flesh, casting the rapidly growing specter of the Dark Lord a powerless glance as her body began to disperse. This could only end in tears—She wanted both of them to be safe, her eyes flickering towards Midna before she was gone.

As the Dark Lord watched them be transported away, he settled smoldering eyes, burning within the ghostly fires, upon the Imp; That meddlesome, irritating wretch of Twilight. If not for her, the Hero would've been long dead, and every damned soul the world over would know of his destiny. Unchallenged, deserving, as the rightful ruler of this world… It was owed to him and him alone, as was its most precious prize. Midna was the catalyst behind this confrontation and she would pay for the hindrance with her pitiful life; It was she who defied the Gods, not he—_She will burn._ His face, projected in the blazing inferno of spirit, contorted with rage, letting loose a vengeful yell and beckoning the Twili to her doom.

"It's time." She whispered, standing her ground as the ancient mask snapped to her body. Midna drew all of her power, pulsing through pale skin as her form shifted and morphed; a powerful trident materialized in her grip as she plunged it downward with all her might. The flames burst outward in a blinding flash, rocking the very chamber, as Midna was thrown back—Something was burning into her, draining her strength as her weapon shattered uselessly. _…What…What are you…!_ Pressure was building within her, expanding at a painful rate and Midna felt as if she would explode; struggling, the golden flames seared her thoughts, until finally she heard it: a crack. The sound echoed painfully, as all grew silent besides—The flow of power had ceased, and the fused shadow had been rendered inert, fading back to shadow. _No…No, it can't…_ The imp could feel her body shrinking, numb, as her mind began to fade. Through doubled vision, stone cold upon her cheek, she could've sworn she saw a boot forming from the blinding fires in front of her—_I…failed…_ the thought echoed, lonely, across her mind before falling into nothingness.

The Gerudo's body reformed above the broken imp, breathing deep as the energy settled into its original shape. A low laugh resounded within the air, accompanied by a grinning mouth, fangs shining as the flames receded until they shone only within his eyes. "…And to think… My people's blood took a place in the assembly of your pathetic kind." He spat, sneering as he kicked the tiny body aside. "What a waste."

Ganondorf strode towards the throne, fetching the sword that was once to end him. Balancing it upon his hand, he turned slowly, appraising the weapon. _How deliciously ironic,_ He thought, _That I might have an opportunity to kill the Hero, with the same blade that the Sages used against me; I can hardly wait, though as it sits, I am vulnerable._ As he stepped down, returning to Midna's crumpled form, Ganondorf realized what the Imp had managed to do—He could no longer rely on Zelda's body to anchor him, with his essence removed from her. Zant was once again needed, as he smirked down at the lifeless body. "…Though, perhaps not a complete waste; I know of a way we can make you into something useful… If I may borrow a page from Zelda's book, you're body will serve as the perfect sacrifice for Zant's revival." He cackled, sticking the tip of his boot beneath the Twili's stomach and kicking her up to his hand, violently. He took hold of the remaining mask, tearing it from her head. _…And the cherry on top. _He chuckled darkly, gazing down at the Imp, gathering a powerful spell around him. "…But, I _forgive_ you, Midna, for your idiotic flaws and defiance." He laughed haughtily, blood drunk and crazed from the words Zelda's voice had imprinted into his mind. "Such _suffering_ you have endured!"

His laughter boomed throughout the chamber as it began to rumble and shake, cracks shooting like lightning through the marbled floor; as his body vanished, transported and following the call of the other chosen, the magic fired. Midna's body was given up, the energy flowing to find Zant's consciousness easily enough, and within seconds, the Gerudo was could feel the tether restored, safely keeping his energy intact symbiotically; with Zant revived within the Twilight realm, his living phylactery was secure. As long as that anchor remained, he would not perish. From where he had just stood, and explosion blasted outward, river-like patterns of gold carrying the force.

Down below, safely materializing within the fields, the Princess and the Hero looked out over the plains, trying to justify what was happening. Zelda was frantic, her gaze wavering upon the grass as her premonitions unfolded before them. Link noticed her unrest, pushing aside his own to offer her a comforting hand. "No matter what happens, I'll be here beside you…" He said, smiling lightly with that friendly, hopeful face. The Princess stared down at the hand in horror, recalling that in her dream, taking it was like signing her own death warrant. She swallowed nervously, licking her lips lightly and looking up into his steely eyes as prophesized words came from behind his tiny smile. "I'll help you…"

Before she could take the hand or do anything else, the rumble coursed through the ground beneath their feet, and Zelda's heart nearly jumped out of her chest; _Oh, Goddesses, no, not the abyss! Don't crumble, please don't crumble beneath me!_ Flinching, she peered down, finding the ground stable—to her relief—Though, the rumble continued to grow; a cacophony topped by an explosion. Blinking, the both ofthem turned, surprised, to see the mighty castle rocked heavily by several blasts.

Link's eyes widened as the dust cleared, thick black smoke rising into the skies, his hand dropping listlessly to his side. "…No…" Upon the ridge, backed by a ghostly brigade, sat the Dark Lord, unscathed, upon a beastly mount; The black horse reared back, clearing the clouded air as it settled with the smoke staining the horizon. Within his grasp, held high for all to see, was Midna's headpiece—The fragmented mask—And without effort it was crushed, falling in shards to the dirt. "She's dead…" He gasped, anger and grief competing upon his features in some shock, "The bastard **killed** her!"

But Zelda was unconvinced; she'd seen this trick before and knew that it might well be a bluff. "Don't believe it, Link. He may have only defeated her; it might just be an intimidation technique." Her ears twitched as some of her resolve returned. Hooves beat heavily into the dirt as Ganondorf charged toward them, ethereal followers tearing behind him at break neck speeds; Zelda noted that the Sword of Light was poised to strike Link down, unavoidably. _I never actually took Link's hand in my nightmare, did I?_ She cast her eyes toward the Hero beside her, who seemed to be silently pleading for her help. _I understand…Nayru. I thank you for your guidance, in my struggle._ The Princess nodded solemnly at the Hero, clasping her hands in prayer and hoping it would not be the death of either man.

"Spirits of the Light! Wielders of the great power that shines far and wide upon our lands!" She called, feeling a strength well within her as the Dark Lord grew near enough to strike, "In this hour of need, grant me the power to banish evil!"

The world seemed to slow around them, fading into a warm glow as the grass became as water beneath them; The threatening beat of hooves replaced by nothing more than a distant trickle. The Hero watched, amazed, feeling as if his body was floating—Each deity he'd encountered, shining bright, swirled around them, fleeting across his vision: Ordona, Eldin, Faron and Lanayru. They were somewhere else entirely. _Now, that's what I call the Power of Prayer…_He thought, stunned, as Zelda's graceful form became clear in front of him. Fluid light whipped through the air like ribbons, flowing from each spirit to gather in Zelda's hands. Within her slender fingers appeared golden arrows, beautiful and intricately made; each as perfect and flawless as the next. The two of them stood together, alone in time, slightly amazed at how familiar it seemed. _We really are blessed…_He blinked, smiling.

The Princess glanced up at him, in awe of it all; seeing him smile like that, as if everything was going to be okay, she couldn't help but smile back, grateful. "Link…" She felt the arrows within her fingers, knowing she could never save the Gerudo—The Gods had bestowed these weapons upon her… And if so, Ganondorf was certainly doomed by one force or another, whether she acted or not. She couldn't deny it or make excuses for him any longer. His purpose on this Earth had been served, and as much as it still pained her, these arrows were a sign that he was to return to Din's care. Zelda knew now why the Hero had to intervene—She could never complete the task herself, either the Gerudo would overpower her, or she would care too much to deliver balance without bias.

"Chosen Hero!" She declared, reassuring herself that this was the right thing. "Lend us the last of your power!" Zelda bowed, bestowing him a great honor and showing her appreciation; _…And I will ensure the lessons I have been given do not go to waste upon the world; Never again shall I allow a man to be so twisted beyond salvation, that you will be called to cancel them out… Not by our own doing, or anyone else's._

Stepping forward with a light splash of water around his boot, the Hero held out his hand once more, smiling still with that soft, warming look. "Don't bow…" He said, taking her slender fingers in his, "I'm just a farm-hand." He grinned with humility, as the glow washed over them both again. Zelda felt some relief as she finally took his hand, as if all her feelings of loneliness, despair and every wish for normality had indeed been heeded, bringing clarity and closure to her ordeal; time shifted around them again, returning them to the fields in a blinding flash.

The whinny of Link's horse was the first thing to be heard as the duo appeared, mounting her. Zelda blinked to clear her vision of the effects left by the light, holding the back of the Hero's belt to steady herself as she summoned a golden bow to her hand. "I'll try to slow Ganondorf down with my light arrows…" She said above the wind and distant screams from the town, smoke thick upon her tongue, "Just keep me in range, alright?" Zelda took a calming breath, bracing herself; _If we can get him off the horse then we can end it quickly…Mercifully… _She told herself—It was easier than the truth. Wisdom had cleared her mind, made it obvious to her, that there would be no easy end to this.

Ganondorf locked onto them from afar, slowing his mount to a halt as he studied them from higher ground. His grip was tight around the hilt of his blade, jaw tense; Zelda was upon the boy's horse; Armed. _Damn it all, _He hissed mentally, _All that sentimental rubbish about redemption, understanding and atoning for the past… And look where the little harlot chooses to be, now that the boy seems to have the upper hand._ He growled, anger rising. Such liberties he had given her, educating the girl and correcting her flaws; deigning to engage the Princess, thinking she was a rare exception to the rule. But no, of course, like any Hylian residing on their pedestal, bathed in light, she had proved to be nothing more than a disappointment. Zelda had betrayed him more than she'd ever know, just standing within reach of that wretched boy after what he'd allowed her to see and know—Betrayed her own people, whom she represented; her actions would be the nail in their coffin, when they were done here.

…_And she has the gall to forgive __**me**__?_ He sneered, twitching as the Hero turned his head, speaking to her—Link was talking to his queen, his prize, as if the girl could be considered an ally. Zelda belonged to Ganondorf; she was his property, barely able to be considered human besides whatever he allowed, and even that remnant of her was to be reserved only for her fiancé's enjoyment. Every word passed between the two was an assault to his honor.

_As soon as this shameful blade takes his head from his shoulders, she will eat his heart to prove herself still worthy of my affection,_ He thought viciously, finger tapping upon the hilt as his rage and jealousy turned to malice._ Then, I'll drag her, and the corpse, to the Hero's village and burn it to the ground, along with the residents and any who set foot in the forests thereafter. Never again will the light grace Zelda's skin, or any other Hylian who survives the purge—This day proves that they deserve nothing more._

And so the Dark Lord's mind was set, whipping the reigns and digging his boots in to spur the horse into another charge. Thoughts of retaliatory genocide, and where to start about it, flashed across his mind, but as his glare met the Hero's steely eyes, Link's death took mental priority. 

Epona was swift, turning to dart across the fields as Link guided her along the cliff line and waited for their enemy to catch them. Over his shoulder, he fixed the Princess with a strong look, "His horse is fast; I'm going to stay close to the chasm. When he gets alongside us, I'll pull back. Take a shot if you can, alright?"

Zelda nodded, nerves creeping up on her—She'd never experienced combat like this, and didn't really know what to expect, besides what she'd read in books. Readying an arrow with a shaky hand, she peered back to see the Dark Lord gaining on them quickly. "He's coming up now!" She called, noting the way the Gerudo was postured. _Perhaps this isn't the best place for me to be, _she thought, panicked, _He's out for blood, and I'm in the line of fire…Gods only know, my riding with Link gives him a good excuse to kill me as well._ Thundering hooves sent clumps of earth flying behind as Ganondorf closed in, giving a blood curdling yell and a glare that made Zelda's skin crawl—He swung, apparently impassive towards taking both of their heads off. The Princess shrieked, ducking and pulling the Hero down with her as the blade narrowly missed them; Link veered dangerously close to the cliffs, distracted by Zelda's move, but soon pulled behind Ganondorf's horse as planned.

Shaken, the Princess cocked the arrow, wobbly with her heart racing—drawing back quickly, she misfired, as the arrow hurtled through the air, missing its target completely. _How am I supposed to hit him through all of this? I don't even want any of this! This isn't fair, there was a better way; why must that man and his damned pride force my hand like this? _She thought frantically, as the Dark Lord turned away from the cliffs, "Link! I can't… I just can't do this! I'm not a warrior!" She cried, overwhelmed. "I've never dealt with a moving target!"

The Hero pulled away from the edge, following Ganondorf's path, "I know it's daunting, especially with a live opponent…" He called back, needing her to take the shot soon. "But get a shot ready, and track him on the line of sight, using the straight of the arrow to aim; when an opening appears, hold your breath and fire, back straight. Just focus on that, and let me handle the rest. You'll do fine, I promise." He flashed her a smile over his shoulder, "I was no warrior at the start of this either."

Epona was rounding on the Gerudo's position quickly, as the horses curved inward towards the heart of the field—Ganondorf was slowing, readying for blows, and Zelda could see that she needed to take the shot. The Blade of Light had greater reach then the Master Sword, and the two of them wouldn't pass without sustaining more damage than he. Following the instruction given, she drew back another arrow, aiming over Link's shoulder; her serene features were set in concentration and reluctance as the tingle of light brushed her cheek. _I'm sorry._ It slipped from her fingers, flying through the air almost soundlessly, on a direct path for the Dark Lord.

With the wind rushing past, mount in full stride, Ganondorf heard it only a second before it struck his shoulder; the point pierced his armour, the magic seeping into his skin with an electric ferocity. A burst of pain washed through him, tearing at his very soul as he let out a yell—His body was quickly numb, heavy, though the very core of his being was still being attacked by some mystical force. Through the haze, he willed himself to stay upon his horse, unsteady as his vision blurred. _What in the hell was that!_ He screamed mentally, besieged by the sheer force of the strike. He knew immediately that it was no normal arrow that had hit him, as Zelda's name was cursed over and over again in his mind; _She'll regret this…_He hissed against the pain, as a suitable punishment came to him, _For the pain of each arrow, she will suffer through the pain of childbirth. One daughter for every blow she lands!_

Blinded by his anger and the assault, he was vulnerable, and his damning thoughts were literally cut short as the Hero rode up beside him; the sting of the Master Sword slashed across his body with the same sensation as the arrow, tenfold, though his armour deflected most of the physical damage. Humiliating cries of agony escaped the Gerudo's throat, his harsh features contorted into a pained scowl as, thankfully, his stallion moved away of it's own accord.

The Princess gripped the back of Link's tunic, twisting the fabric in her fingers—The look upon the Dark Lord's face shot waves of guilt through her. She could barely accept that the Gods wished for his life to be ended here, and his suffering triggered a strange sense of self loathing; She wanted no part of this, though her hand had been forced. It wasn't fair, not to the Gerudo, nor the Hero… Not for Midna or for herself. It seemed cruel, prolonged, as if this battle were merely for the entertainment of an unseen audience that demanded blood.

As the chase went on, even as the Gerudo recovered, the Hero caught up with him again, swords clashing violently as Zelda could do naught but shy away. Ganondorf was worse for wear, it was clear that he was becoming careless, exhausted, but still the warfare continued with Link's fatigue showing through as well. The boy sent her a look over his shoulder, demanding that she continue her part of the assault—It tore her mind as to what was right and wrong, what she wanted and what was best. Another opening had presented itself all too soon, and as the Princess drew back another arrow, she caught the fierce gaze of her fiancé's golden eyes. In that moment she realized with some horror and despair that her twisted affection for the Dark Lord, manipulated though it might have been, had grown into a dark and unlikely connection—Something akin to love; disfigured and broken, though real. His dishonesty had upset her greatly, holding her at arms length and closing himself off from her in so many ways. All she had wanted was the truth. His betrayal of their disturbing relationship had rocked her far more than the revelations of Link's survival, and that had scared her, angered her, along with all of the other emotional reactions she'd had that day…The day she'd worn her wedding dress, no less.

_It was supposed to signify a new beginning, not a tragic end, _she thought sadly, breaking as Link's voice barely reached her ears, pleading for the arrow to be fired. As it slipped through her fingers, helplessly guided by Divine Will, Wisdom spoke to her, the words softly coursing through to soothe the frayed mind it had long been absent from; _Truth bears no witness to the indecencies of men, yet it is Love that pays the penalty of their misdeeds._

It was only a matter of seconds, though the world seemed to still within Zelda's senses. The arrow flew to strike the man once more, shocks of gold whipping across the Gerudo's flesh as his body shook and convulsed. His hands dropped the reigns as through his teeth hissed a tortured cry; Link's arm drew back, the Master Sword shining as Epona's speed picked up, carrying them to the Dark Lord's side as the Hero stood upon the stirrups. The blade was swung with force, slicing easily through the air to strike Ganondorf's armour. Zelda cringed as she saw the Gerudo sway, Link's second swipe cleaning tearing into the stallion's leg and drawing a rasped whinny. The horse stumbled, surprised, and soon toppled as a misstep broke its leg with a sickening wet snap—Sent crashing into the dirt, Ganondorf was thrown to collide with the earth as well. The man skidded, tumbling and sending a cloud of dust into the air as dirt littered and smeared his armour, ripping his cape some. The fall would have surely killed any normal man, breaking their neck upon impact, and for a tense moment as the Hero slowed to a halt, Zelda watched Ganondorf's still body forlornly.

_Don't get up…Please, just stay down,_ she pleaded to herself, knowing that there would be no such luck as the Hero climbed down to inspect the body. She wanted to scream, tell Link that Ganondorf was dead and leave it be; tell him to get away; The Princess could already see the duel in her minds eye, knowing one of them would die. But that was a lie… She knew Link would be the victor. It was painfully clear to her. _Can you not just strike him now, pierce his heart before he stands and be done with it? Have the Gods no mercy left?_

The crumpled body indeed moved, twitching to life as the Gerudo slowly rose. A dark laugh, unstable and foreboding, lilted quietly upon the air as the Sword of Light was stabbed into the dirt. Rising to a knee, Ganondorf's head pulled upwards, revealing a maddened grin as a trembling hand gripped the blade's hilt. Golden eyes turned to Zelda as he pushed himself up, not bothering to brush himself off; She looked concerned, and a strange flash of pride swelled within him. It pleased him to know that she still cared for him; it made things much easier. _Little do you know, my dear,_ he thought, _that things look far worse than they are. Fatigue and death are very different things…_ He glanced toward the boy, who'd taken a few steps back and prepared himself for battle. _And while the two of us may share fatigue, only one of us is capable of dying today._ The thought brought a wicked smirk to his face as he threw his head back; laughing at how wonderfully this had played out despite the minor setbacks to his original plans.

With a grunt, Ganondorf leveled the Hero with an amused glare, before turning his gaze to the holy weapon he held. His voice still held a tone of mirth when he spoke, though dripping with superiority. "An impressive looking blade…" He held the sword up, gesturing to it, "But nothing more." It had failed to kill him, the purpose for which it had been forged, and now it was a symbol of his vengeance. He raised a brow toward the boy, who seemed confused by the statement. "…Would you hear my desire?" He asked rhetorically, that sick smirk growing as it twitched the corner of his mouth. "To take this foul blade, and use it to blot out the light forever." A murderous glint in his eyes made the boy flinch, the Hero steeling himself and drawing up his shield. _…You, boy, and everything you represent, have the honour of being the first to be extinguished._ The Princess would be fully eclipsed by him soon enough. The Dark Lord took a few steps forward, noting how Link did not back away—Epona reared back, almost bucking the Princess as another barrier was forged, locking the two inside. Only one was to leave.

Link's knuckles were white beneath the leathered gloves, as the Gerudo drew his blade back, ready and signaling that combat was starting. His thoughts still lingered on Midna's welfare, as much as he tried to calm his mind. A warrior's mind had to be still, like water, to reflect an opponent's power—That was Courage's gift. Taking a breath, he settled into a defensive posture, knowing that Ganondorf's strength would be at an advantage here. _I'm only half his size… If I take him head on, he'll topple me easily._ Blinking, he glanced down at his blade, hearing the heavy boot-fall of the other man advancing. _I understand, now, _he thought, remembering what the Shaded Hero had taught him, _Technique is the key to matching his power._ The Shade had passed down his skills, precious and crucial, knowing that Link would fall without them. _The blood of the Hero flows in me … The blood and skills of The Hero of Time. _Link smiled to himself, fixing steely, determined eyes onto his enemy; …_And he crossed time again and even death itself to make sure that his blood didn't go to waste today._

Ganondorf lunged forward, thrusting his blade dangerously toward Link with a smirk. A loud clash of metal rung out into the air as it connected with the shield, the Boy deflecting the blow and ramming the Dark Lord back with the shield. Ganondorf stumbled back a few steps, surprised, as the Hero took a confident step forward, wearing an indomitable smile. "I won't let him down." He said quietly, eyes flashing at the Gerudo with an untamed and resolute glow. The Dark Lord frowned slightly; _Him…?_ He thought, staring the boy down, _Does he not mean her?_ His golden gaze flashed toward the Princess momentarily, before he dismissed the thought—It was not important who the boy fought for, he would not succeed. With a growl he lunged again, but as the Hero readied himself to counter, the Gerudo pulled a feint and thrust a powerful kick toward the boy's shield, sending him swiftly to the dirt. Ganondorf eyed Link as he coughed, moving quickly to stand again, and chuckled. "Choose your tricks wisely, Boy. I'll not allow you the same one twice."

Epona snorted derisively, shifting with distress at her master's treatment, as Zelda ran her fingers soothingly through the mare's mane. "Easy, now…" She whispered, patting the horse's thick neck softly, "There's nothing more we can do. This was never our fight. I, the Princess, and you, the Steed; we are merely accessories to fate, now." Epona seemed to visibly settle at her words, but Zelda's eyes were filled with a sad anguish. She watched as Link rose, slashing at Ganondorf as the Gerudo blocked and stepped with finesse. It could be anyone's game, and she was amazed the Gerudo could still fight so easily. Link's injured arm was sapping strength from his strikes, she noticed as well, parrying with a pained look on his face. Without his shield, he'd have been hard pressed to defend himself at all.

Her stomach was churning as her crystalline gaze tracked each man carefully; Perhaps the Gods really had left it to chance. Had her involvement changed things? From what she could see, both combatants were on an equal footing as it was, and she had already planned and prepared for Ganondorf's being a permanent facet in her life and as a part of Hyrule's future. Perhaps she had inadvertently rolled the dice—Either man's victory today would do some good, in her mind; Ganondorf's victory would mean the eventual quelling of history's most feared evil, while Link's would return normality and peace, for as long a time as fate allowed. Blinking as she watched Link roll behind the Gerudo's legs to spring up and slash at his back, she realized that Link's victories, no matter when they came, were only a band-aid of sorts. That was why he was reborn, incarnationally returning within the prophesized cycle, as she did. Ganondorf was the same man, with the same memory and experiences across the ages. The longer he lived, his life prolonged through mystical means—Both imprisonment and now, invulnerability—the more his hatred and bitterness would be stirred. It worried her greatly, to think that any God would place this land at the mercy of a building force like that, with only temporary relief, regardless of the balancing influence it provided.

As the Gerudo swept low to take out the Hero's legs, Link leapt over him, landing a blow with the pommel strong enough to split helms. Zelda winced empathetically, watching Ganondorf stagger to his feet, shaking his head as a rivulet of blood slid down the side of his face. _I must be correct, or it wouldn't make sense,_ she thought, watching the men hack away at each other, _Ganondorf is supposed to find solace in Wisdom's care and guidance…Or his returning would point to divine malevolence or neglect, after time enough has passed that he is merely a beast with no semblance of humanity._ But, with her assumption of his purpose correct, did that leave Link fated to die here? Zelda shook her head, dismissing it; None of the three were truly meant to die. Their existence was constant. She also knew, deep within herself, that the Goddesses loved this land and their children. With some pain, she watched the two come together, blades clashing as they competed for dominance, trying to knock the other back. Zelda knew then that Ganondorf would not die today, not truly, only be defeated… But would he remain? What would become of him?

The Dark Lord was slowly overcoming the Hero, his height giving him a clear advantage, though the boy stood fast in an awe-inspiring display of strength far beyond his expected physical ability. Ganondorf must've been at his limits, worn down and weakened with fatigue. Zelda's hands were clasped tightly, her eyes locked upon them. _If he is to be defeated…Though I am correct…_She thought sadly, tensing as Link began gaining the upper-hand, _Then…I am not the bearer of Wisdom that will fulfill Ganondorf's purpose._ With those words in her mind, lingering as her heart sunk, the Hero gave a final shove to send the Gerudo stumbling backward to hit the dirt.

The world seemed to flow in slow motion as Link leapt high, the spring of his knee propelling him with strength, the Master Sword held above his head in both hands. Blinking through the pains of battle, Ganondorf's golden eyes raised to track the boy as he launched. The Gerudo saw the shimmer of the blade, cutting through the air seamlessly, and felt a twinge of panic. Link's face was contorted into a fierce scowl, steely blue eyes hungry like a wolf for the victory, as he prepared, midair, to strike downward. Zelda's gloved hand rose to her mouth immediately, the gravity of what was about to happen tearing a gasp from her. This was the moment that would decide the fate of their world, and each knew it.

The scream echoed across the field, distant agony, carried by the wind to caress the grass and roll along the cobblestones of the Castle Town. Almost as if the world had grown silent, all the land may well have heard that scream—Those who didn't, would feel it; an instant of change as it rushed across Hyrule's soul. The Master Sword's tip had found its mark, true and pure, as it was mercilessly driven into the Dark Lord's torso to fill the wound left by the Sword of Light. Link knelt over the Gerudo's form, still, as the man screamed. His steely eyes held a glint of finality; this blade would not allow anything besides execution. The Princess stared on with glazed eyes, unable to truly process the scene as the cry of pain never reached her twitching ears. Had all in Hyrule heard it, her mind would not allow her to, deafening her against the sound. The barrier's golden light flickered and faded as the Dark Lord's scream did, dissipating as the sound bled through the air in echo.

Zelda felt cold. She supposed she should've been happy that the Gerudo's heart was not her burden, though she only felt betrayed and usurped by it. She deserved the burden. No, she had earned the right, to be the one to heal the wounds history left them. The Princess had been correct the day she'd first stared out at the grey sky and seen a man behind it—She was no Hero. She was the Princess. But that was far more important than being the Hero, for he would only ever stave off chaos, while only she could give order and balance. A fact she would pass down to her children, and see that their children received the same. Wisdom was not an accessory, or prize, or trophy. It was not a helping hand, nor merely a guide… It was the alternative to Courage. A better alternative.

Link had released his blade, moving away to inspect the Dark Lord. Ganondorf was still alive, and in his tenacity, was struggling to stand even as the Master Sword was embedded in his torso. The Hero watched him, with some surprise, though he no longer seemed concerned and had already removed his shield, strapping it to his back—Clearly, Link knew that this was over, regardless of the Gerudo's protests.

Ganondorf's body was heavy, sluggish, as he staggered to his feet, stumbling as his equilibrium was shot. He blinked, wincing as a burning pain seared his body and soul, the electric sting of the blade tearing at the very essence of his being and dampening his power. He gnashed his teeth viciously, his hands becoming tight fists as his fury fueled him against the constant assault of the Master Sword, turning a glare toward the Hero. That wretched brat thought that was all he had?

"Do not think this ends here…" He warned, growling with malice in his voice. His eyes turned towards Zelda, who was dismounting the horse with a sullen look, before taking a step forward. His movement was halted with a painful shock of resistance from his condition, the Gerudo cringing and flinching before returning a fierce and hateful glare to the Hero.

"The history of Light and Shadow will be written in blood…!" He spat viciously, blood staining the corner of his mouth as the metallic, almost foreign tang coated his tongue.

The Princess stopped, looking at him with widened eyes; She knew that was directed at her. Biting her lip, guilt flushed through her—She'd promised to make things balanced with him, and had not lived up to that promise. Now, he was openly rejecting anything she had to offer him. The words stung her ears with their harshness.

Link shook his head, tired of this. It was over, and nothing the Gerudo said could change that. As Ganondorf tried to summon more of his power, he found he couldn't, and the Hero only watched as the man grew desperate.

Seething, all of the muscles in his body tensed painfully, as Ganondorf willed every thought of hate and rage to stir his strength. The more he thought of such things, the more the holy mark faded from his hand. _What…Is this…? Why am I only growing weaker?_ He screamed in his mind, pulling with all of his soul and searching for Power's gifts. He couldn't take hold of it. Something snapped within him, like a rope breaking, and the Triforce faded from his hand altogether; The Master Sword had restricted him from using it with evil intent. This also meant that, in his mental state, he might as well have been bereft of it. His eyelids grew heavy as his vision began to blur, golden eyes lingering on the pale white streak that was the Princess. His Princess. He'd lost her. _…Zelda…_ With his power, also faded his magics, and he could feel his anchor to Zant slipping slowly away. _No…I can't…I will not…Die…_

Within the Twilight realm, watching the fateful battle with the aid of the mirror gifted to him by his Lord, Zant, too, could feel the divine presence of his master slipping away. His life, the magics holding him together, were fading; Ganondorf's power was being sapped and contained, and the connection between them was almost gone. With a piercing moment of clarity and acuity, the Twili took a shaky breath, knowing what must be done. "The other Gods would see you destroyed, Master…" He whispered, bowing his head lightly toward the image within the glass. "I will never, as your humble servant, allow that to happen. Farewell, My Lord. May your power live on to restore your divinity in time." Gathering the last of his power, using the very energy of their link to each other, the Twili's neck snapped with a sickening echo, severing what little force bound Ganondorf to the world of light. Zant knew this would release his spirit from that realm, and deliver him from the assault of the Holy Blade. It was his lonely sacrifice, willing and able, that may one day see him return again.

Upon the fields, a still and calming zephyr blew, like the silent toll of a bell. Ganondorf's body stiffened as mortal death crept up from the shadows of his soul, ready to take the forged body. He could feel it, the anchor was gone. He was alone, vulnerable, and his body was going to die. Once golden eyes, alive with fire, were now glazed and white, the flames extinguished and leaving only ashes behind. _This sword…_His mind echoed, as everything began to fade away, _This blade has undone all that I had sought to achieve… Eradicated all that I had managed thus far, in naught but a single, final stroke._ His deathly gaze, unseeing, rested solely on the Princess._ How can such a blade exist, to overcome the Power of the Gods themselves? Who would forge such a blasphemous blade, but Hylian kind…_As his eyelids finally closed, his body giving way, his mind, intact, drifted elsewhere. He could feel the presence of the other two chosen growing ever more distant. _Zelda…I will return for you…I swear it…Your line will forever…Hold it's debt to me…For this day…_

The Princess and the Hero stood as the lonely wind blew. He was dead. Link had prevailed, and Ganondorf was dead. Zelda was silent, even as mystical lights and forces coalesced upon a nearby hill with lively energy. Link's attention was attracted to it like a moth to flame, as a desperate and hopeful look took hold of his friendly face. A small, black silhouette had formed as the display came to a finish, and the Hero's eyes grew wide. "It's… It's Midna…!" He gasped, starting of with a few slow steps that soon turned into an eager sprint. "She's alive!" He called happily, running in full flight toward his friend, though the Princess merely stood there, watching him as she was forgotten. It was not her reunion. Her place, for the moment, was here, before the still form of the Dark Lord. The man she'd failed to save.

A few short steps, silent upon the grass, carried her to him. Crystalline eyes, filled with regret, looked over the state of him, gloved fingers slowly moving to touch the Master Sword's pommel. "I won't forget you…Even if history has forgotten you and your people. The struggles they endured…" Her other hand rose slowly to his cheek, warm still with fleeting signs of life. "Neither of us got what we wanted here, today." She smiled softly; mournfully rubbing her thumb over the blood about the corner of his mouth. "But, I promise to you, that we will have what we wished for, in one form or another. Perhaps not how we expected… Not even how we felt it should have come about… But, in time, our actions here, what we have learned from each other, will make this world a better one. And, if no one else will, I thank you for that." Closing her eyes, her hand dropped to join the other, clasping the hilt of the sword tightly. With a deep breath, she pulled, letting it glide out of him; the once glowing wound now red and bloodied, the crimson liquid coating the blade. No sooner had the tip emerged from his flesh, did his body begin to glow faintly. With the wind's breath, his remains, proud and standing, defiant even in death, began to blow away like the sands of his forgotten home. His cold armour, the furred tunic he favoured, the tanned, weathered flesh she knew so well… Even his blazing hair, like flame, were scattered to the wind silently, leaving no trace of him. Not even a shadow to tell that he ever existed at all. A heavy sigh escaped Zelda's lips as she held the sword limply; She felt, in a strange way, a part of her had left as well. She wondered if Link, too, felt it, or whether it was exclusively between her and the Gerudo. _After all the tears…Now, perhaps when I need them most, they do not fall…_ Crystalline eyes turned toward the horizon, as even the blood upon the sword turned to ashes and drifted away into the sunset, as the wind sung a lonely hymn for a broken man.

"Goodbye, Ganondorf."


End file.
